


The Red Thread

by Fenderism



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, FrostIron - Freeform, Frostiron Bang 2014, IronFrost - Freeform, M/M, Mythology References, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:37:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2514608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenderism/pseuds/Fenderism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a fight... A fight that almost took everything from Loki, and had him wandering the worlds in a race against odds and time for a chance to preserve the happiness he had managed to find with his mortal lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Frostiron Bang 2014 and my first work in this fandom.
> 
> Art by starthief-alice can be found here: [Art](http://starthief-alice.tumblr.com/image/101230528503)
> 
> Beta read by the lovely [yumedake](http://archiveofourown.org/users/yumedake/pseuds/yumedake)  
> and Duma.  
> All remaining mistakes are my own, feel free to point them out to me so I can correct them if you happen to find any.
> 
> For clarification on timeline and background, please read notes at the end.  
> Also for my fellow Brits: I wrote this in American English, so it might read a little weird to you. ;)

There was a fight.

Of course, that wasn't the actual beginning but it was the one that set off the events that followed and thus a good point to start.

Unlikely as it sounds, the fight in question was not between Loki and Tony, but rather one of many skirmishes taking place in New York that resulted in enough property damage and risk of civilian casualties that it was deemed necessary to involve the Avengers.

So that's where Tony was, somewhere in the middle of Central Park, doing his best at arguing his need to escape the situation now with J.A.R.V.I.S., while simultaneously trying to avoid any more of the flying boulders and tree trunks heading his way. What the fuck were those things? Why would they not get tired? Tony's armor reached its limits by now after several hours of this game. As if on cue, J.A.R.V.I.S. chimed up.

_“Suit power at 17%, Sir. May I suggest a modicum of self-preservation and a retreat for minimum damage repairs?”_

“Do I even have to answer that, J?”

_“Unfortunately no, Sir.”_

Tony dodged another boulder, trying to see where the rest of the team had gone. Of all the days for these things to fall through some damn portal, they had to pick the one where the team was two short, naturally.

“What I wouldn't give for a little lightning recharge right about now,” Tony murmured to himself, cursing their luck.

_“You and me both, Sir. As it stands, Mr Odinson and Mr Friggarson are not due to arrive for another hour I'm afraid.”_

Well, at least J.A.R.V.I.S. knew better than to follow that up with another suggestion of Tony's removal from the field.

Tony's luck didn't change that day. It was around the same time as they finally saw the light of the Bifrost hit the landing pad at Avengers Tower, that the Iron Man armor finally shut down, locked up due to the lack of energy. Just mere seconds later, an enormous alien tail connected with the chest piece plate and flung Tony several feet high into the air before a bridge crumbled under the impact of catching the red and gold projectile.

Lifting his arm to activate the manual release of his faceplate felt like the hardest thing Tony had done in a long time. Around him the noise went on like nothing had happened, the fight clearly still going strong, but Tony couldn't find it in himself to get back up just yet.  
The armor was fizzled out and damaged beyond repair anyway, so it wasn't like he'd be of much use and he had to admit he had was having real trouble catching his breath. Being able to feel his legs might also be required to actually move, he thought fuzzily. Tony tried shaking it off, but his head wouldn't quite take the command. Instead, it simply rolled back against the pillar crumbling away behind him, filling his vision with bits of blue sky in between the clouds and trails of air traffic. Things were starting to get a little blurry around the time something blocked his vision and took most of the light, and it took a bit of concerted effort on Tony's part to make out the features of the face blocking his vision.  
Worth the effort, though, as his lips stretched into a red smile, some of the blood falling off in rusty flakes at the corners.

“Hey Lokes. Took you long enough,” Tony rasped.

Was that his voice? Damn, those things had really done a number on him. Tony wondered why it didn't hurt more. It should definitely hurt more, he thought before becoming distracted by more wetness on his face. Was Loki crying? Tony tried raising his hand to Loki's face, but it was only with Loki's help that he managed to do so at all.

“Shhh, s'ok,” he mumbled, wondering if he would actually feel something if he'd taken off the gauntlet first. “ 's not hurtin' 't all.”

Tony closed his eyes, needing to rest them for just a moment, just one little moment, then he'd get back up. Breathing was getting really difficult, he thought, just before his last breath was about to leave his lungs.

 

*

 

“Not like this! You will NOT do this to me, you hear?!”

Loki forced the breath to stay still, stay there, trapped within Tony's chest, before his magic spread out and stilled that as well, until all of Tony was enveloped by Loki's magic, held in stasis.

“After all I have done to be with you, you will not leave me like this, you self-sacrificing bastard!” Loki hissed between his teeth, ignoring the tears that blurred his vision.

Red. So much red. Loki usually loved the color, well, he'd come to love it again quite recently, but this? There was so much of it, too much, and it was all wrong, spreading where it should not be.

“Loki.”

He shook off the well-meaning hand that had taken hold of his shoulder. There was no time for this.

“Asgard. We will take him to Asgard. The healers-”

“You know they won't, Loki.” Thor shook his head in resignation.

It pained Thor to see his brother like this, witness his breaking once again. After all they had been through to get Loki to where he had been but a day before, to see it all come crashing down, all the good come undone within moments of their return...

”You are exiled, Loki. Much as it pains me to admit. Father won't help you should you step back into Asgard now and he will not let the healers help your Man of Iron. You know this as well as I do.”

The despair in Loki's gaze tore at Thor's heart, but even he was no longer blind enough to believe their father would lift a finger to help a single mortal, no matter how much that mortal might mean to either of his sons.

“Of course not,” Loki finally smiled, resigned. “And definitely not for me.”

An ugly laugh made its way out of Loki's chest, as his magic curled up over Tony's body and sealed it in, for better or worse. The spell might last as long as Loki's magic would, but he knew all too well that there was only a set amount of time in which the damage might still be reversed. Without the Healing Halls of Asgard, Midgard did not have the technology or resources and Loki did not have the time to argue with them right now about what was to be done! Iron Man was a hero, but he was one of many to them. Replaceable. His death likely as useful as his life had been. Loki knew all too well how these games worked and Tony would lose this time.

“Not like this.” Loki promised once more, his head resting against the battered chest plate. He would find a way, he would fix this.

“You are not getting away that easily, my love.” Frigga's present weighed heavily in Loki's pocket as he finally stood up again, resolve firm in his face.

Still holding on to the armored hand of his lover, Loki turned towards his brother again.

“You will hear from me. Tell the others not to worry. I will fix this.” Loki gave Thor no chance to reply, simply gathered his magic and pulled, moving both him and Tony along the hidden path to one of his hideouts, vanishing before Thor could even try to reason with him.

There was no reason in this, and Loki would not let any take hold until he had fixed this mess and brought Tony back to where he belonged. Back to Loki.


	2. Hideout

Loki had accumulated a number of hideouts by necessity in his long life, though he was still young by Aesir standards. First, it had been the need for privacy that had driven Loki away from Asgard into other realms, and some of the places in between to fulfill his needs. Then there was the growing need for secrecy.

Loki's reputation and standing was tarnished enough without anyone actually seeing the proof of how much time and energy Loki invested in mastering his magic and expanding his knowledge. So he had moved what was feasible of his studies and experiments outside of Asgard.

In the end, it had turned to a need for survival - plain and simple. When even Asgard no longer welcomed its wayward prince, Loki had needed places to lay low, keep safe while he schemed and plotted his revenge on those that had stood against him, and more often than not he also needed time to recover from his wounds.

At least, it had been that way before Tony. Now, Loki practically lived in the Avengers Tower. Had lived in the tower, that is. Going back to it was not an option, not with so many people seeking them out there. first of all.

This rather glum hideout was in the depths of Svartalfheim, a place no one looking for Loki would think to seek out. At least that was the idea. The surrounding area was a wasteland, and the hideout not much more than a cave surrounded by some of Loki's more subtler, but no less powerful wards.

There was not really much on hand here, as this was not one of the places Loki had sought out on a regular basis. It had all the markings of a hardly used and very secret bolt hole, chief among them a scarcity of food and any sort of comfort like furniture or blankets. Loki would have to head out again soon to gather some supplies. For now, he placed Tony on the ground, Loki's own long green cape underneath him. Tony's suit was a complete mess, more parts missing or damaged than were whole. Tony's face was almost as red as his beloved armor now, and it made Loki ache to see him like this.

At a loss for what to do now that he had Tony here in stasis with nowhere else to go, Loki set about the task of removing the broken armor, piece by piece. Very few of the mechanisms for the manual release had been unaffected by the force of impact that had thrown Tony into that bridge support. Most were bent out of shape and it required a delicate balance between carefulness and brute force to unbend or break them.

Loki finally removed the last piece of armor, placing it carefully on the pile for Tony to sort through later. The man left beneath the suit did not look much better than the suit itself.  
The under armor was soaked with sweat and dark red blood, still sticky where the magic had held any further progress before it could dry. Other spots were brown and flaking off, drifting to the ground like sinister snowflakes. There was so much of it. Even against the darkness of the material it could not be denied.

Loki sat there and stared, still not quite comprehending what his eyes were telling him, refusing for it to be true, to be real. Finally he stood, his movements slow as if he was walking through water, and made his way over to a dark wooden chest at the far end of the cave. It held the few supplies that he did have stored here, just in case. They were mainly medical supplies, salves and bandages, herbs, potions, and whatever might be needed to clean out the wounds. Loki took what he needed back to Tony, starting the task of cleaning Tony up. It would not do to leave him in this mess. Tony would be awfully upset over it, once he woke up. He would complain about the itching and the fact that he couldn't scratch cause his ribs hurt too much, declare loudly how uncomfortable this was and make sure everybody knew that he was suffering.

Loki's mind went blissfully blank as he dedicated all his attention to the task of cleaning Tony's skin, removing dirt and blood until there was nothing left that Tony could complain about. All that was left were the wounds. Loki could not heal them while Tony's body was in stasis, so he set about bandaging the open ones to the best of his ability. It would reduce the bleeding when Tony came out of the stasis, at least. A snide little voice in the back of Loki's mind asked what there was actually left to bleed, but Loki ignored it.  
There was nothing he could really do for the broken ribs and caved in chest while Tony was in this state, so Loki simply bandaged them tightly, to keep them from accidentally shifting when the time came to move him. He would have to find a better hideout for them, of course. This place would not work out in the long run, and Tony hated caves.

The under armor was unsalvageable and Loki banished it together with the pile of rags he had used to clean Tony up. Rising again to walk back to the wooden chest, Loki returned with a simple but clean change of clothes. They might be a little long for his lover, but they would be better than nothing. Certainly better than those hospital gowns Tony so despised. Tony had been quite elaborate in his diatribe on why those things should never be considered a viable option for the sake of human dignity alone. Especially not the green ones. Loki smiled wistfully, recalling that. Even he had to concede at that time that this particular shade of green would not compliment anyone's skin, and was a rather insidious way of driving the point of being sick home with the supposed patient. Who could argue it after a look in the mirror while wearing that?

Now Loki saw himself faced with the challenge of dressing Tony while moving him as little as possible, and had to rely on his magic for that in the end. It was a recourse human healers did not have at their disposal and he felt himself a little more inclined to accept the need for these garments. Not the coloring though. Never the color.

With Tony cleaned up and redressed, and still laying still and quiet without a breath or heartbeat, Loki finally let the numbness fall away, painful reality taking its place instead. They did not have the luxury of time for Loki to stay in his denial if he wanted to fix this before it became permanent. And he would have to fix this, no one else was capable of or willing to do it, that much was obvious, and Loki refused a reality in which the sight now before him became a fact.

But where to start? Right now, Tony was closer to death than he was to life, much as it pained Loki to admit. The question was how to pull him back from there. Loki himself did not know the answer to that, quite obviously, or they would not be here now. He would have done what needed to be done to repair the damage already. Loki could think of someone who might know what to do. He was overdue a visit anyway, come to think of it.  
Lifting his hand, Loki gently stroked his fingers through Tony's now clean hair.

“I meant to introduce you to her, you know? She was always on about how I should spend a little less time on taking revenge and a little more on actually being happy. Take my revenge by proving them all wrong about me. Of course she was right, and I was just too stubborn to admit it,” he chuckled, his fingers never stopping in their movement.

“I think you would like her. I probably didn't introduce you yet because I know you two will get along marvelously, and then you will start ganging up on me and how am I supposed to hold up against that?” Loki's smile turned wistful again, missed opportunity clouding the thoughts of what should be. “I will take you to see her when we have solved this and you are better again, my love. Then I will stand back and enjoy the show, as you say, when you berate her gloomy cliché taste in décor.”

Leaning down, Loki pressed a soft kiss against Tony's temple before finally taking away his hand and rising to leave.

“I am sorry to leave you on your own like this. I know you do not favor caves but I promise I will return as quickly as I can. You will be safe here while I am gone.”

Looking around at the dark walls, Loki set a few more torches alight, adding a little magic to keep them burning so they would not extinguish themselves while Loki was gone. With one final look at Tony, now bathed in the warm torchlight, he turned towards the entrance again, heading out to meet with his daughter.


	3. Helheim

It had been too long since he sat at this table, had it not? Even by the leisurely view the gods had towards time.

_“To be fair, you were a bit preoccupied for most of it, Reindeer Games. What with all the world destroying and overtaking, and the making up for it and all.”_

Hearing that voice so clear inside his mind gave another twist to the knife, a short but potent searing through the numbness that had settled back around Loki after he had left the cave on Svartalfheim. The familiar sound of it startled the breath right out of him. Loki didn't need to look around to know that the owner of that voice was not present, could not be present.

“You're not real,” he whispered, barely audible even to himself.

 _“Might be, might not be. Never **will** be the way you need me to if you don't get a move on, though!”_ the voice chided.

You will be, Loki thought quietly. He would find a way to fix this, for both of them.

There was no outward sign of the upheaval inside, save for those few spoken words. Loki's mask stayed firmly in place, every crack kept on the inside, jealously guarded from prying eyes and kept close and treasured, private, theirs alone. The grain of old wood under his fingers was reassuring in its solidity, so much so he found himself tracing the deeper groves in it with a focus to exclude all else. It came as a bit of a surprise then, when another voice made itself heard.

“He is not here,” his daughter greeted him from her place in the open doorway. “But you already knew that.”

Loki lifted his head to take her in, his beautiful, terrifying daughter, and waited for the surge of fierce pride that accompanied that action every time but his heart beat one beat, two, three and the feeling won't come this time. Loki's heart feels tired and wrung out instead.  
He smiled at her like he always did, watched her step towards him and waited for her to continue.

“If he were to step through my gates, I would send him back to you, father.” Her pale hand reaches for Loki's face and caresses his numb skin in a way that reminds him very much of Frigga.

She looks understanding, the opposites of her appearance united in their silent support of his hidden grief.

“You also know that he won't step through my gates, even if you were to release him from your spell, do you not?”

Loki's eyes close again at that and he can feel the cracks spreading throughout, the numbness sinking through him, down and away like sediment.

“I had still hoped...”

“Your Man of Iron, he was a hero. A reluctant one, but he fought and he died like it. He was never meant to see these halls.”

“Is.” Loki declared, his eyes opening once more, this time radiating defiance. “He is a hero. But you are right that he won't enter these halls. Nor any other of their kind, for that matter.”

Loki watches the softness leave her face, watches her half lips curl up in a smile, and pride taking the place of compassion in her one clear eye.

“In that case, you will have need of this.” She tells him and passes her living hand over the pale bones of the other, before opening it up and holding it out towards her father.

On the plate of her hand rests a long white needle. Loki takes it from her with care. Inspecting it with both sights, he recognizes the familiar thrum of magic in it as part of his daughter. Loki raises an elegant brow at her, the question clear.

“I cannot give him back to you, but I can give you this.” Her fingers lightly touch the needle now resting in her father's hand.

“There is a way to barter with Her for his life, but it must be done before he crosses the gates to Folkvangr or Valhalla,” she explains.

Loki gives a humorless chuckle at that.

“I think we both know it is Valhalla he would cross into. The Allfather would find a way for the Valkyries to accommodate his wishes, he would not pass up this chance to spite me thus.” Anger suffused Loki at the thought, his fingers curling into themselves and tightening.

But his anger did not last. The futility of it too overwhelming to hold onto it for more than a moment, and it drained out of him almost as quickly as it had suffused him.

Loki's hand uncurled, fingers relaxing as Loki spread them outwards, seemingly transfixed by the contrast between their pale hue against the dark, almost black grain of the table.  
Closing his eyes for a moment, Loki let the last dredges of tension leave his body with one long exhale, before nodding towards his daughter to indicate he was ready to listen once more.

Hela knew better than to comment on her father's obvious distress. Her sympathies would only distress him all the more, so she did what she knew would help him most; she continued to outline a task for him he could achieve, one that would help him to fix this. That, or at least allow him to feel less helpless, while he adjusted to the thought of a universe without his little mortal spark in it.

“This is but the first part,” Hela continued. “You will need three parts, which will then be combined to make an offering, one worthy enough for _**Her**_ consideration and balanced so well it will be able to tip the scales in your favor.” At this her good eye rests on him, the implication heavy and clear. This will not be easily done, not even by gods, not even by him.

There is no use in pretending that it changes anything, though. It will be done. There is no real choice there for him and she knows that. Just as she knows to leave his tattered pride the illusion of one for appearance sake, at least. Appearance is all they have to hide behind in moments like this, far too many to count.

“The rest?” Loki inquires calmly.

“You'll need red thread, the kind that weaves lives. You'll have to barter with the Norns for that.”

That unlocks Loki's mask to let out a scowl. The Norns drive hard bargains and their prices are not the kind he is inclined to pay if at all avoidable. Well, the task was bound to be an unpleasant one, considering the price and the parties involved. He would do what needed doing.

“What else?” Loki pressed.

“Memories, freely given.”

Hela stepped back from him and rounded the table, heading towards a shelf in the back which contained an assortment of oddities, books and parchments. Removing one of the parchment rolls from it she turned back to face him, her words clear and precise.

“You will need to make a life, in a manner, one similar enough to that of your beloved's so it might weigh the scales in his place.” The scroll is placed next to his empty hand, where it rests on her table. “Similar, but still just that little bit more fascinating, to make it more appealing than the one it needs to barter for. Just enough to appeal to **_Her_** tastes, crafted well enough to suit one such as **_Her_** , a compliment, if you will.”

Loki considers the scroll and Hela's words, taking her meaning and the implied warning therein. His index finger strokes along the scroll slowly, feeling the dust covering it buzz with the strong magic contained within the parchment.

“A compliment to **_Her_** tastes, not an insult, like implying vanity might be.” Loki lifted his gaze and watch the hint of satisfaction pass his daughter's face. She had been understood.

“In simple terms, the task is to shape a life, balanced in all aspects, equaling the life lived that is to be traded for and adding to it the life yet to be lived.” Hela seats herself and rests her pale living hand next to his, offering without presuming, and waits for him to take it.  
Their fingers intertwine as her father silently accepts Hela's support.

“The memories will take the shape of beads, when harvested according to the ritual and spells within this scroll. The beads in turn must be strong with the balance of life and death, the needle and thread, to form the necklace that will hopefully allow for the trade.”  
Her hand gave his a light squeeze. “One rule that you must follow; once the first bead has been strung, not a single word may pass your lips, until **_Lady Death_** has either accepted or declined your offering to **_Her_**. If you fail in this, all prior work shall be void and you must begin again, from the very start.”

Hela gave her voice all the gravity of the Queen of Helheim, determined to give this point the emphasis needed. Loki's most famed weapon were his words, be it to attack or to defend himself, and he would not be able to use that weapon once this part of the spell began. Not for magic, not for communication, not even to talk his way out of danger or whisper in his sleep.

“One word from your lips, be it in waking or in respite, and the spell will shatter, rendering all the parts bound into it thus far worthless for further use. You would have to collect them again from scratch.”

Her father nodded in understanding. Good. She knew he would find a way to abide by it, once the absolute imperative of the rule was understood.

“I better collect all the memories necessary before trying my hand at becoming a jeweler, then." Loki smiled at Hela and rose from his seat, his right hand leaving hers to take hold of the scroll instead.

His head kept low, his shoulders bent as if the weight of all of Yggdrasil rested upon them. Even his smile was but a pure imitation of his usual mirth in the face of true challenge to his skills. Hela's heart ached to see her proud father this despondent. Having seen her father in many states of loss, of anger, of grief, she could not recall many moments where he seemed this resigned to it, like even he knew, and accepted, that this would likely be a futile enterprise.

“It will be worth saving your words for his return,” she stated, giving her words the solidity of fact, instead of the intangibility of a mere hope. Her father would succeed in this, because he had to.

Loki stilled, regarding his daughter with appraisal and taking her in in all her terrifying beauty and otherness. His smile held more truth this time, thankful for her belief in him, and for her help. The half bow of her mouth curved up, joining the grinning line of bare teeth to answer his smile in kind with one of her own.

“I'll make time to visit, once you're done.” She said. _Once you have him back._

“He'd like that.” Loki returned, _(Thank you)_ and left to begin his task.


	4. At the Well of Urd

It had been a while since Loki last wandered along this path, winding ever downwards along the roots of Yggdrasil, where the Three resided by the waters of Urd's well, weaving the threads of what was, is and would be, capturing wyrd in their workings.

He remembered them fondly, to tell the truth. He had always admired them for not bowing to the overwhelming presence that was the Allfather but rather making him bow to them.  
Loki recalled their mischievous smiles in particular, gifted to him like secrets behind Odin's back. They carried to him all the marks of fellow tricksters, enjoying their game before turning back towards the Allfather with grave countenance, pondering the price for the favors asked of them in weighty silence with the occasional 'hmmm' and 'aaah' for emphasis.

Loki had thought it a great game when he was young and innocent, back then. Going so far as to snigger in joyful mirth now and then (especially after one of the Three whispered some observation or comment on the whole procedure into Loki's ear), to the great contrition of Odin himself. Needless to say he was not taken along to see the Three for much longer after this, his apparent irreverence proclaimed as an indicator that he was too young and willful to comport himself in a befitting manner. At least, that was what Odin had said when handing Loki over to Frigga, before leaving to consult the Three once more.

What Loki took away from it was not to show anything but cool aloofness on occasions like this from then on, lest he lose rights and access to another source of joy and knowledge. For young Loki those two were pretty much the same thing and he had learned to be more cautious, not to let others see how and where he came to his knowledge. He remembered too well the considering look the Allfather had given him during that last visit, watching Loki as the same listened raptly to a story Urd recounted for him from the old Jotunnheimr, before the ice. He'd caught Odin's gaze then by chance, looking around mid-laugh he knew not why, and finding the then still beloved father's attention on himself. He'd smiled and laughed at him, then, and Odin had smiled at Loki in return, but it had not reached his eyes. Loki's visits to the Three stopped shortly after that.

In hindsight, it was clear what had led to it but at the time all Loki could discern from the happenings was that the Allfather was not in favor of Loki's never ending curiosity or the means by which he fed it, outside of Odin's wisdom and supervision. So he took care not to get caught again, lest another door might be barred to him.

Loki's youth and love for Odin kept him from rebelling openly then and his inexperience from walking the paths needed on his own. By the time Loki had acquired the knowledge and skills necessary to walk those paths or find his own more hidden ones, the Three were nothing but a fond memory, buried deep within the treasure trove of childhood in his mind. All but forgotten in favor of all the new paths that wanted walking and exploring. Loki had not returned to them, then, and so he was left to wonder what might be the nature of his reception now.

This time, it would be Loki, come to ask for favors. But there would be no child here with him, making the Three smile behind his back like it was some great game to be played.  
All the weight of their attention would rest on him, now. Adding to that the Three were rumored to be of the Jotnar, of all people, which did not serve to make him any less apprehensive of what was to come. Their kinship was but coincidental and all but lost in the shadows of his deeds on Jotunheimr, the way he saw it.

Stepping out into the twilight, Loki took stock of his surroundings. The ground was already more difficult to make out, shadows covering it, stretching themselves longer and wider with the fading light, turning everything from colorful browns and greens to grays to blacks, amplifying every sound within them. An ominous time to arrive for a visitor, should one put stock in such signs.

_“Yeah but from what you've told me none of them really strikes me as a Magrat, so I don't think you need to worry about that.”_

Loki flinched. If he weren't so used to this kind of commentary, he would have been tempted to roll his eyes despite the shock that still accompanied the appearance of that voice. As it was, there was just a barely there twitch of his lips before he set out on his path and no one there to spot it.

 

*

 

The first of the Three crossing Loki's path was Verdandi. He watched her for a moment, transfixed, as she lowered her bucket into Urd's well, and recalled how those rough and clever fingers taught him the weaving of a snare spell, which he had (successfully) tried out on Fandral but a week later. Loki very much doubted that she'd laugh with him this time, were he to retell his latest bit of mischief to her now.

“You can keep standing in the shadows, or you can make yourself useful over here and lift that bucket for me, little princeling!” Her voice called him out of his reminiscence and from under the tree that sheltered him.

“I never could keep from your keen sight, Verdandi.” Loki stepped out into the fading light of the evening, masks and smile firmly in place, towards the second of the Norns.

“One would think a keen mind such as yours would have learned better than to try by now,” She countered, taking in the sight of him with shrewd gaze but not open hostility, for the time being.

“Ah but how would I learn to do better if not for trying, until I have found and overcome whatever it is that might give me away?” Loki smiled with the appearance of friendly jest, while reaching for the full bucket and lifting it out of the well for her without a strain.

Loki's smile hardly felt a strain when he looked at her and saw the reprimand written within her eyes. He'd known to expect as much.

“Would that you'd actually learn, then I might be willing to forgive a miserable act such as the one you try to put on now!” Verdandi chided him and turned back towards her home, her stride quick and confident just as he remembered it, her words just as sharp and to the point as they'd ever been.

Loki let go of his charming smile then, empty as it was, and let it give way for a smaller and more intimate one. This filled with remorse, missed opportunities and a reluctant fondness.

“I admit I should have known better than to try with you, I suppose.” He granted, following in Verdandi's steps across the darkening yard and towards the warm light beckoning from the cave's entrance between the giant roots.

“As well you should have.” She returned, the smile surprising and clear in her voice, causing Loki to stop just for a moment, all defenses laid to waste.

It was not often that the trickster was taken by surprise any more. There were but few who could count themselves successful in that ability, his children first among them and Tony, he'd been a surprise from the first moment, too. Loki closed his eyes then against the agonizing burn trying to take hold of him with that thought. He could feel it, that vast hollow inside, his deepest breath hardly filling that dark emptiness, clinging and pulling at him, trying to drag him under. _Not now._ He chided himself. _There's still a chance. I'm not done yet. We are not done!_

_“Too right we aren't, now stop the drama and hop to it, if you don't mind.”_

Loki almost stumbled, biting back a curse, but he caught himself just in time and gave a small nod, before picking up his step to follow Verdandi's footsteps in the falling darkness.

 

*

 

The dwelling of the three was beneath the roots of a giant yew tree, small windows like holes shining brightly with the light from within between the interwoven roots. Loki remembered climbing all over those roots as a youngling, even climbing in through the window once or twice in an attempt to sneak up on Urd, which of course never worked and got him a scolding from his f- from the Allfather.

 _“Come now, sweet cheeks. You can call him dad and still hate him. Trust me, I would know.”_ Loki tried not to flinch at the reappearance of that voice.

 _“Do you really want me to leave? I will if you tell me to, you know.”_ Loki could feel it, he would.

All of a sudden it didn't matter any more, sane or breaking, going on or unable to ever recover, Loki could not lose that last part of him, whatever the cost!

 _Stay_ , he thought, hoping it was not too late as he looked once more upon the wrinkled face of Urd, where she sat by the fire, weaving a tapestry on a frame spun with red threads.

 _“Of course I will, Rudolf.”_ Loki smiled, sad and tired, but relieved beyond measure.

Urd meanwhile took him in, the way he stood there like a beaten dog, asking to be let back into the house because he knew nowhere else to go.

“The wayward Prince,” she finally spoke. Loki felt his shoulders stiffen a little at her proclamation, the use of his title.

“Took you long enough, Little Mischief.” Urd opened her arms to him, as if he were still that little boy she had taught tripping and snaring charms together with Verdandi, behind his father's back.

Loki gladly went, grateful for the easy and all encompassing acceptance he found within Urd's embrace.

“There, there.” The old woman murmured, holding him with deceptively strong arms as she stroked over his tangled mess of hair. “You'll always be welcome here, my little Mischief. I thought you knew that.”

“I was not so sure of it any longer, all things considered.” Loki admitted, eyes a little misty as he slowly pulled back from her embrace.

“I've heard some of it, I think. But what I want to hear is what really happened, so sit down and tell me, little one.”

That won a small laugh from Loki at last. To Urd he would always be a little one, specifically her 'Little Mischief' as she had dubbed him the first time he had accompanied the Allfather down here. Urd herself might have been old, even ancient, but she was still taller than any Asgardian man or woman that Loki had ever seen. So were the other two, Verdandi and Skuld, who was the youngest of the three.

She was now smiling at him from next to the fire, where she tended to the stew boiling in a large cast iron pot hanging over the pit, her dark hair held back in a thick braid that trailed down her back.

“It has been a while since this one brightened our hall.” She agreed pleasantly.

“He's grown quite a bit since he last fell through our windows, has he not?”

“That was one time!” Loki was quick to defend, despite the good natured smile that accompanied Skuld's teasing. Leaving Urd's embrace with regained confidence he stepped towards Skuld to greet her in turn, arms wide open this time as he felt more assured of the nature of his welcome.

“Before I knew your windows defied logic and opened to the inside. And I did not repeat that mistake again.”

Skuld laughed into his hair as she embraced him.

“Still a fierce flame then, our Little Mischief! That is good to know.” Holding him at arms length by the shoulders, her look sobered a little as she took him in.

Despite the smile time and all it brought with it had left its marks on Loki and Skuld knew how to read them all too well. Bringing a hand to the now no longer childish face, she stroked it gently.

“We've heard of some of your other lessons.” She sighed.

Her hold on Loki's shoulder was tight, not allowing him to step away from that truth but it was also reassuring once Loki allowed himself to feel that truth. Skuld did not judge him for what they had heard of his deeds, but she would also not allow him to hide from her.

Verdandi's voice made itself heard behind Loki then, where she was setting out the table.

“We told that fool of a king to be truthful with you, you know. But he was too enamored with his own cleverness and scheming to listen, as is the way with men like him.”

That had Loki turning around, far as Skuld's hold would allow him to.

“You knew?!” Eyes wide in shock he turned back towards Skuld, seeking the truth in her hazel gaze.

What he saw there made him feel weak in the knees, but it was Urd's voice that confirmed it for him in words.

“We knew, little one. We knew back then and we had a good idea when it was that you learned of it later on. We would have told you, had your visits not stopped before we could be certain that he would not. As it stands, I believe that is part of the reason why they had stopped.” The old woman sighed audibly, before putting her yarns aside and levering herself out of her seat.

“He was a fool to think he could play thus with the heart of a child, and not reap anything but resentment for it! And don't get me started on that oaf of a brother of yours and how he played both of you children!” She all but cursed as she made her way towards the table.

Loki meanwhile felt completely overwhelmed with this turn of events. He had expected them to have heard of his misdeeds, yes, but not of the true reasons behind them! And yet they still...

“You knew. You know, what I have done, what I am, and you still welcome me into your home?” he questioned a little lost, unable to comprehend.

“Oh Loki,” Skuld sighed, giving a gentle squeeze to his neck, sadness but also acceptance in her eyes. Nodding over his shoulder towards the set table, she instructed; “Hand me the bowls, will you? We can talk while we eat.”

“Of course,” Loki nodded, thankful for something to do as he went to the table on weak knees, trying to reel in his thoughts and his confusion while he went between the table and the pot over the fire pit, holding one bowl after the other out for Skuld to fill.

By the time they were all sitting down and Verdandi started handing out bread and cheese Loki felt calmer once more. The new knowledge had sunk in and given some more depth to his perception of the Allfather's plans for Loki, or what those plans had been before Loki had sliced through them and his strings, making himself useless as a puppet for the king.  
It became less surprising with some retrospection that his hostesses would not shun him for his true nature. Had Loki not thought to himself just before meeting Verdandi on their own rumored origins? More surprising and still baffling was the fact that they did not shun him for his deeds, however. Now even more so than before.

It took Loki a few moments, occupied as he was with his own thoughts, before he realized how quiet the usually chatty women were around the table. Looking up he found Urd's knowing gaze on him, scrutinizing him to see how the news settled in with him.

“I admit, that was rather unexpected,” Loki finally broke the silence.

He wondered if it would have changed anything if he had known sooner. If there would have been anything he would have done differently, that he could have done to be a worthy son, rather than a pawn. Would he have wanted to, knowing it all? No point in thinking about it now, was there?

“May I ask...there are rumors that say...that imply that you as well-”

“That we, too, are of the Jotnar?” Skuld finally took pity on him.

Loki nodded. Yes, that had been what he wished to ask, but was not sure how to phrase without possibly giving offense. Urd nodded her understanding.

“We are Jotnar.” She confirmed for him. “We left Jotunheimr before the ice, and Laufey's reign. It was different, back then, and Laufey sought to change it. We did not care for that change, so we made ourselves a new home here, away from their wars and eternal ice age.”

Loki's eyes widened at that. A time before the ice?

“It is a lot to take in, yes. But even though it is part of what led you here, it is not the reason.” She proclaimed with certainty.

“So which will we talk about first, little one? The past that made you, the life that formed you, or the task that brought you?”

From the corners of his eyes he could see Verdandi and Skuld listening in attentively, and Loki supposed it was time that he gave like for like and so began by reciprocating their honesty with his own by outlining the task he had set himself.

“There is something I need of you.” Loki confessed. “And it must be given willingly.”  
At Urd's nod he continued his tale. “There is a man that has come to mean much to me.”

 _Everything_ his mind supplied, but lips refused to state.

“He fell in battle. I did not reach him in time to prevent the strike that felled him, but it was in time to...halt the inevitable consequences. My search has led me to find a way to make those consequences a little less inevitable, if done correctly.” He could feel more than see the shock to both sides, his look fixed straight ahead on Urd as it was.

To their credit, neither Verdandi nor Skuld interrupted and Urd merely looked attentively back at him, waiting for him to finish his tale and come to the point of his visit here.

“There is a way to bargain with **_Her_** for his life,” Loki concluded, “and for that I will need some of your red thread. I have to make a necklace, you see, and it has to be created with the powers of life and death in it. Your thread seemed the most logical solution.”

There it was, Loki's plea out on the table, even if it was not exactly worded as such. Loki tried not to hold his breath as he waited for the verdict. If they denied him he would be hard pressed to find a suitable alternative in the frame of time he had to work with.

Not a word was spoken as the three looked at each other, their conversation held with gazes rather than words, leaving Loki in the dark as he watched in helpless suspense, waiting for them to reach an agreement. It seemed ages although it could only have been a few moments before Urd finally raised herself from her seat at the table without a word, walking over to the corner that held the loom and her yarns.

She returned with a single skein of red yarn in her old hands, dropping it in front of Loki on the table as if it where nothing, before settling back down in her seat. Loki visibly sagged with the breath of relief that escaped his chest as his fingers took hold of the precious thread.

“Thank you!” He whispered sincerely, overwhelmed by gratefulness for the gift given.

“I take it your daughter provided the other?” Urd simply asked, nodding in satisfaction when Loki procured the bone needle for her to see.

“Good. Now that that is taken care of, where is he? You hardly look the type to stow away your love in a pocket dimension and risk that he will be lost there forever, should anything happen to you or your magic.” She remarked, sharp as ever.

“No, indeed I did no such thing. He is in one of my safe places, well hidden behind wards, at least for now.” It did not sit well with Loki to leave Tony there alone, protected only by Loki's magic. Strong as that may be, it was still fallible.

“You'll bring him here, then.” Urd concluded, no room for argument in her voice.

“Verdandi will air out the old guest hut for you while you go retrieve what you need, and we'll keep an eye on your love while you go out to save his life.”

Once again, the old woman had left Loki speechless. He had come prepared to grovel for a tenth of the kindness they had shown him since he stepped onto their turf and here she was, freely heaping more onto him as if it were just the way things were done.

“Close your mouth, it's unbecoming,” Urd gently chided as Loki failed to find the words to accept her generosity.

No one would even think to look for Tony or anything connected to Loki here. Even if someone were to do so, the Three were anything but the harmless women they portrayed themselves to be, he knew well enough. Tony would be safe here while Loki had to leave him behind to fulfill the tasks set to him. Did Urd even know what she was offering to him?

“It's quite obvious you can't be left to your own devices, so don't even think about arguing, young man!”

“I won't,” Loki finally answered, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“Good. We failed you once. The void take me if we do so again. Now go get your things together, and bring him over. Time's wasting. We'll find time to talk about the past once the present is less dire.”

Nodding his thanks to Urd and in turn to the other two, Loki rose from the table and made his way back to his refuge with haste, his steps quick and more confident now that he not only had a goal, but also a place to rest without fear when he needed to, and where Tony could rest in safety.

Back in the cave Verdandi turned her gaze from the closed door back towards Urd.

“Should we have told him the rest of it?” she questioned, worry in her gaze. “If he finds out-”

“All in its time,” Urd cut her off. “He will know when he has the strength to bear it. Telling him now would have been too much too soon.”  
Verdandi nodded, clearly not happy with the answer, but understanding the need to keep this secret a little longer.

“You think there will be a time when he won't resent us for it?” Skuld asked, moving the empty bowls off the table to rinse them out.

“Give him some time to get used to what he has learned today. Let it sink in and take root, before we go shaking that tree again,” Urd mused half to herself. “This one's always been a clever one, but his heart is good. He just needs some time to remember that fact.”

Skuld nodded, satisfied with that answer. “I suppose it is time that someone showed him some trust.”


	5. Return to Svartalfheim

Despite sensing no tampering with his wards nor foreign presence near them, Loki only started to feel a true relief and lessening of his restlessness when he stepped into the lit cave and saw Tony rest there still, exactly as Loki had left him. The torchlight bathed Tony's now pale features in a warm glow, but even that was not enough to trick an eye as sharp as Loki's. He knew the exact shade of warm bronze that accompanied that impish smirk that was now missing, knew how pale it would get at its worst when Tony was wounded, how lively it caught Loki's eye when he was not.

“I have found us a place to stay, at least for the time it will take to get you better” were the words that eventually broke the silence. “It is not much, but we will be safe there, and it won't be in a cave, either. I know you do not like caves, but this was the safest place I knew to bring you without prior warning. I am sorry for leaving you here on your own this long, though.” He babbled.

Loki couldn't recall the last time he had done such a thing. It was as if Loki's words were trying to make up with sheer volume for the lack of audible response, fill in for the words that should have made up the other half of this conversation, turned monologue. His hands kept moving, unsure what to do, now that no one watched them when Loki told their story. Letting them fall by his side he stepped closer to sit down next to Tony, taking one of Tony's hands between his.

It looked wrong, this pale skin that hardly differed in hue from Loki's own now, cradled between long pale fingers. His fingers twitched with the impulse to work, change the paleness back to its supposed tone by kneading the flesh and skin to get the blood flowing-but that would be pointless. So Loki just held on, watching as his fingers gently stroked over Tony's hand, and continued.

“The Norns have offered us shelter, when I sought them out after visiting Hela. Hela gave us the means to fix this but I need to travel a lot to collect the rest of the necessary ingredients and won't have much time for doing it.” He looked up from Tony's hand then, taking in the relaxed countenance of his lifeless face. “You will not have to stay like this for long, you know, but it will take a lot of work to fix this mess. So you will have to do with the Norns for company while I am gone. They are good women, they will look after you for me.” He promised, feeling his throat getting tighter the longer he talked without being cut off mid-word, or even acknowledged.

Loki forced himself to smile, going on to say, “We will leave your suit here for now but I do not think you will miss it much, at least not until you are well enough to start tinkering with it again. I promise it will be safe here.”

Loki raised himself to his knees, placing the pale hand back onto the unmoving chest before leaning over and pressing his forehead against Tony's for a moment.

“I know you dislike the pocket dimension magic immensely but it will be the easiest and safest way to take you there without aggravating your injuries unduly, so I hope you will forgive me for this.”

Loki pressed his lips against the cool skin, eyes closed in silent apology. Opening his eyes, he straightened up and took a step back, his hands moving swift and sure, circling each other quickly and in the next moment Tony's body had disappeared.

“Just for the travel, my love,” Loki promised the empty cave. A casual wave of one hand saw the torches extinguished, darkness taking hold once again as Loki stepped out of the hideout. It had served its purpose well enough but Urd was right. It was no permanent solution, and it could not provide the safety and reassurance the three women could. Loki would travel easier and have a clearer head for his set task, knowing that Tony was safe.

Tony hated caves, anyway.

 

*

 

When Loki stepped out from the hidden path again it was Skuld who awaited him by the well. Smiling at him in greeting, she straightened up from her resting place against the well's stone wall.

“You've been quick. Not much to pack, I take it?” Loki shook his head.

“There was not really much time for that when we had to leave, nor was it amongst the first of my concerns."

Nodding her understanding she stepped away from the well and towards Loki, sidling up to him so they could walk down the path together. Loki remembered the guest hut of course. It was a little ways down behind the trees, out of view of the main path but still within sight of the back windows of the root cave underneath the tree that the three women had made their home. He'd spent some time there, exploring and playing when Odin insisted that the adults needed to talk amongst themselves for a bit.

Walking around the outskirts of the small crop of trees, Loki watched the hut come into sight. It appeared a good deal smaller now that he was grown. Then again, the last time he had lain eyes on it he had not even been half the size that he was now and an empty hut by a small crop of trees had still been a great adventure. The man holding his hand on the way to here had still been his father. How far away that all seemed now. A bit like a fairy tale, or a long lost dream, only now remembered. Next to him Skuld wore a knowing smile of her own, likely lost in memories not to dissimilar from Loki's own.  
“The hut's been aired out and dusted regularly, and Verdandi has gone through it again while you went out.” She took up their conversation again.

“The larder has been stocked with food as well as some mead and herbs but you are welcome to dine with us, of course. Urd or Verdandi will probably make their way over and drag you out by the ear if you don't, actually.” She smiled, and her announcement made even Loki break out of his reminiscence for a moment, chuckling quietly at the mental image.

In his mind Tony was cackling gleefully.

 _“Now_ that _is an image I would pay to see! Do me a favor and be your usual contrary self, won't you? At least for however long it takes 'til they come to drag you out of there.”_

Loki smiled at the thought. _Not a chance, darling. I might not have visited for some time, but even I still know better than to oppose Urd's unspoken will. Even Odin bowed to that, I would hardly stand a chance._

Turning towards Skuld he replied, “It would be my pleasure to share your meals, if you will have me at your table.”

She laughed at that.

“I can see why they call you Silvertongue now, Little Mischief! We will see about the pleasure once Urd and Verdandi are laying into you, I guess. The food is good enough and the fire warm, so I don't think it will be too hard on you.”

Stepping onto the porch of the hut ,she placed her hand on the solid wooden door, the wards on it emanating a soft blue-white glow in recognition. Nodding to Loki, she waited for him to place his hand on the wood beside hers. That done, it took only a few whispered words to finish setting the wards to allow Loki free passage to and from the hut. Loki felt the magic take hold with a soft tingling, not dissimilar to the feeling of static, against the palm of his hand. They both dropped their hands once it was done, turning towards each other.

“Verdandi and Urd of course have access as well, but no one outside of us three and now you. Urd says you are welcome to add your own wards but if you wish for us to look after him while you are out make sure to give us access as well.”

Loki nodded his thanks at that, grateful that they would not consider it rude for him to add some precautions of his own on their property.

“Thank you for your kindness and generous hospitality. I will make sure to inform you of any wards I am setting and to grant you access to them.”

“That's all we ask.” She smiled down at him, already turning back towards the old tree.

“I will leave you now to get settled. Take all the time you need but be advised Urd is likely to send one of us to come fetch you if you have not made your way over to us by nightfall. Until then.” She spoke, taking her leave.

“Until nightfall, you have my word!” Loki called after her, watching her walk down the path for a moment, before turning back towards the door and opening it.

Letting out a deep breath, Loki stepped into the place that once had been his playground and would now serve as their sanctuary for the months to come.

 

*

 

The inside of the hut was just as he remembered and nothing like it at the same time, like so many childhood memories tended to be. The walls, the floor, the furniture and windows, they all were still the same, yet the scales seemed vastly different. The main room held a dining table that would comfortably sit two people, maybe three and two chairs alongside it. The corner to his left held the water barrel and pail next to it, as well as a little stand with a washing bowl and jug. In the far left corner a writing corner took up space, which was really just a wooden table with some shelving over it, holding writing implements and a few drawers to stow away sigils, wax and papers, things like that. The stretch of wall between the barrel and the writing corner held the open fire place, a low fire already stoked in it and flames merrily dancing away. The wall opposite it held more shelves and another doorway, which Loki knew would lead him to the smaller bedroom. A simple set up, enough to offer hospitality, but not so much that people would feel inclined to take undue advantage of that offer.

Crossing the room past the dining table, Loki stepped through the doorway into the small bedroom, finding it clean and the air fresh, just like Skuld had promised. The linens on the bed looked to be fresh as well and it was with a sigh of relief that Loki moved his hands once more to access that hidden dimensional pocket, letting Tony's still body reappear to settle gently on the bed. For a moment Loki just stood and watched, letting himself wonder what it would have been like to come here under different, less dire circumstances. For Tony to just have fallen asleep on the bed, after a long way of travel, so he would be all fresh and full of energy to chat off their hostesses' ears during their meal.

 _“We can still do that, you know? Once you've fixed me up. Again,”_ Tony's voice spoke in the confines of Loki's mind.

_“I'll even swamp them with pop culture references, and you can be all educated and above it all and explain to them what a dork I'm being. Sound fair to you?”_

“It will do, I suppose.” Loki sighed, stepping away from the flight of fancy and the bed and turning to search out the large chest he knew to be in the corner by the small window, if memory served right.

There it was, another thing that had stayed the same in this place, while Loki's life had come tumbling apart over and over, changing every which way and back again. Opening the heavy lid he was greeted by the spare bedding and rolled up bed pallet he had been looking for. Although the bed was large enough to sleep two grown adults without issues, taking up quite a bit of the small room in turn, Loki was too worried about his sleep turning restless, or his body moving by instinct to seek out Tony's in his respite, curling up around his lover and thus inevitably aggravating his injuries. Rolling out the pallet in front of the chest, Loki then dropped the spare bedding on top of it, satisfied he would have a place to rest close to Tony, but without endangering him.

_“Don't you think you're taking it a little far there, Lokes? At least store me on the floor then. I mean it's not like I actually feel it, is it? You on the other hand...”_

“No. You take the bed. You know I would not sleep if we changed the arrangement, so there would be no point to it anyway. This way my rest might not be as comfortable, but I will have at least some of it.” Loki refuted, taking in stride the fact that his voice was the only one spoken out loud within these walls.

How quickly one could get used to the strangest things for the sake of comfort, he mused to himself.

Looking back towards the bed and the lone figure upon it, he frowned. Tony's chest was covered by Loki's shirt, unmoving still and without breath. Walking back out into the main room, Loki soon returned with a small crate, which he placed beside the head of the bed, against the wall. A few quick twists of his fingers, accompanied by the right words, and a small sphere came to rest on top of the crate, giving off a gentle glow. Nodding satisfied, Loki pressed a quick kiss to Tony's temple, before taking his leave.

Back in the main room he made his way over to the corner holding the writing desk and shelving. Finding a suitable box atop the uppermost shelf, he deposited the scroll containing the details of the spell inside of it, as well as the needle and thread. Casting a few quick but effective wards and a notice-me-not spell upon it, Loki replaced the box on the shelf before heading out.

He would go around the hut and add his own wards to the protection of their dwelling next, before joining the three for their supper, and the inevitable questioning about his life and how it had led to this. He owed Urd a story, and his hostesses a gift for their gracious hospitality, he knew, so might as well go all out and have it done with. It would be a long evening, and tomorrow Loki would set out again, because time was short.


	6. Amora's Debt

Loki stepped out into a meadow, the last outcrops of the forest at his back and the gray mountains rising before him, their tops turning from pale slate to white, before disappearing completely within a small smattering of clouds. Looking around at his peaceful surroundings, Loki raised a disbelieving eyebrow. It all looked rather too picturesque and tranquil for the one he was seeking.

 _"Now would you look at that!"_ The pesky little voice inside his mind commented. _"All that's missing is Julie Andrews. Please tell me this Enchantress doesn't actually use singing to cast her spells, cause that'd be too much of a cliché even for one of your kind!"_

A tiny smile tugged at Loki's mouth, curling the corner of his lips the smallest fraction.

“I know.” he whispered, setting out to follow the invisible trail left by the spell.

It led him towards a narrow winding path, more of an animal track really, but easy enough to navigate in the light. Following along a creek now, he reflected upon previous ventures he had undertaken to seek out places just like this one, to get away from all the noise and pestering of Asgard and its people. He had always rather enjoyed those times, and welcomed the solitude they brought. Now the quiet felt too much, startling in its absence of voices, the solitude near overwhelming.

_“Betcha never thought you'd miss my 'inane ramblings' that much, hmm?”_

Loki's steps felt heavier now, for he was walking them alone, he realized. The smile he'd previously worn turned into a look of determination. He would change this, one way or another, he would make sure that the quiet would end.

_“I'll remind you of that the next time my chatter encroaches on your tranquility, shall I?”_

“Please, do.” Loki whispered, following the path where it broke away from the creek and up towards the steeper parts of the mountain.

 

*

 

The look upon Loki's face when he finally reached his destination may have well been one of confusion, were he ever to admit to such a thing. Given the scenery he had arrived in when following the messenger spell he had expected another cave of one form or another, truth be told. Yes, it was a cliché, but one that was based on the experience of hero and villain alike. What he had found instead was rather more homely, if a word like that could ever truly be attributed to Amora.

 _“Says the man who doesn't like the quiet anymore cause it lacks my domestic ramblings,”_ the voice quibbled.

Well, he couldn't exactly argue with that, he conceded with a tilt of his head.

Lowering some of his shields to make his presence more obvious as well as the non harmful nature of his intent, Loki took the final steps towards the quaint little log cabin, nestled against the foot of the mountain. He had felt himself pass through the first set of wards about two miles past and had wondered a little at the odd lack of aggression felt but passed it off as Amora's occasional fondness for him (the one often present when they didn't argue about Thor).

But looking at this, Loki began to wonder if there wasn't something of a more permanent nature to her most recent changes. It had been a while since he had listened in on the happenings of the Realms, too occupied with his own problems and the quest they had bid him on. As the etiquette for their kind demanded, Loki halted his approach a few steps before the porch of Amora's dwelling and let the spells usually used to obfuscate hidden weapons slide off him like one would let a cloak, allowing for Amora to ascertain his relative harmlessness from the safety of her home before even stepping foot outside to meet him. It was but a moment, before the wooden door opened silently and the Enchantress stepped out.

“Loki,” She greeted, regarding him with her masks firmly in place, taking in his appearance and collecting all the little hints it might give as to his intentions.

“Amora.” He gave a respectful bow in return, before raising his eyes back to meet her gaze.  
“It has been some time since we last met.”

“It has indeed, Loki, but even here word reached of your loss.” Her gaze turned unbearably kind, as she continued. “I know I-”

“Don't!” he hissed, his hand putting a stop to her words with a cutting gesture, unwilling to deal with pointless platitudes and even more useless proclamations of commiseration. “We both know if he means anything at all to you then it is as a nuisance and I would rather not hear you pretend otherwise.”

Amora's expression turned to one of understanding, accepting that there was nothing she could say to convince Loki otherwise, even if she should her words be meant sincerely.  
She stepped back half a step, opening the way into the cabin.

“Will you come in, then, and tell me what it is that made you seek me out at a time like this? Obviously it is not for my meager attempts at consolation,” Amora joked.

Loki closed his eyes and took a calming breath, closing and relaxing his hands in turns to stop them from shaking, despising how obvious he was being in his lack of control, how easy it was for others now to look behind his masks and see the pain...

_“Now, now hot stuff. We talked about this, hmm? Less with the tantrums and more with the words. You are actually good with those, remember? Certainly managed to talk me around...”_

Loki felt the tremor in his hands recede, while amusement curved in the corner of his mouth at the reminder. Yes, Anthony had plenty to say about his so called 'tantrums' and many an incentive to abandon them in favor of less destructive methods of communication. Mainly so that he would still be the only one deliberately blowing things up in his workshop.

_“And let's not forget the absolute pleasures that are Fury's phone calls. Why that guy thought I'd taken over your Nannie position all of a sudden I have no idea.”_

Loki opened his eyes to Amora's look of consideration, relaxing his stance, before nodding to accept her invitation and walking past her into the cabin.

The interior was distracting in its lack of weaponry and obvious spell castings. The giant axe he'd had quite a few memories of avoiding in a skirmish was leaning next to the fire place, adding to the domesticity of it all. Loki raised an eyebrow at Amora.

“He's out. We may speak if you wish, he won't be back for a while.” She answered his implied question, leaving it at that. “Have a seat and let me hear the tale, then. I'm sure it must be quite interesting, if it brought you this far out just for the doubtful pleasure of my company.”

Loki took the indicated chair and leaned forwards, elbows resting on his legs while loosely clasping his hands in front of him, lowering his body slightly in a silent show of deference while she took the other chair slightly across and to the left of him. The fireplace emitted a warm glow, the crackling of the low flames as they burned through the logs the only sound for the moment, while Loki searched for the right words to present his request to her.

“Indeed I am afraid it is not only for the pleasure of your company that I've come to seek you out, Amora. But then as you said yourself, you are quite aware of that.”

She gave him a light tilt of the head and shrug of her shoulder in confirmation, but did not interrupt his speech.

“I have come to ask a favor of you,” he continued.

They were both aware that it was actually the collection of a debt, but neither was inclined to use such unpleasant reminders unless absolutely necessary. The real power of words had always been the knowledge of when to use them and how to choose the ones appropriate for the task. Magic users like them were more aware of those facts then most people, given the added danger in their line of work inherent in picking the wrong word or even inflection.

“I am in need of some items for a work,” he continued, “I can give you my word that no harm will come your way from my acquiring these items, nor will they be linked to you in any way should you chose to accommodate me.”

Amora nodded, quietly thinking it over while looking at the flames.

“And what exactly is it, that you ask of me, Loki? You are being rather accommodating and cautious in your demands. It's not quite like you, I have to say.”

They shared an almost laugh at that pronouncement. Yes, he used to be so entitled, demanding rather than requesting where it was not detrimental to his goals. And after his fall he had been even worse, for quite some time.

“It appears recent times have changed both of our habits to a noticeable degree then.” He rejoined playfully, and Amora conceded that with another nod of her head and a small smile.

“As for my needs, I would request some of your memories, ones I think you won't mind recalling with a little less intensity to them, truth be told.”

Loki caught himself before he could wring his hands restlessly in anticipation of her reaction. Memories and the sharing thereof in any capacity was a serious thing among magic users. One not often practiced, since it took an uncommon amount of trust to make oneself so vulnerable to another practitioner in the process of it.

“You have my word that I would neither take nor look upon any but the memories previously agreed upon by the both of us.” He went on, wishing to put out the whole proposal for her consideration, before she could decide to cut him off by declining outright.  
“I would leave you with an impression of the memories, still, a shadow if you will. You would not have to miss any of the knowledge, just the emotions you experienced while gaining them.”

Amora did not take her eyes of the flames, while pondering Loki's proposal, leaving him with no impression as to her reaction besides the lack of outright refusal. Yes, she did owe him, but the memories still needed to be given freely, not forced from the holder by means of coercion. It would taint the magic and make them useless at best, outright offensive to **_Her_** in the worst case. He would not risk it by pushing too far. In her seat Amora leaned back, her musings having seemingly come to an end.

“So is it true, then? You are weaving for **_Her_**?” was the startling reply Loki received.

“What?”

For a moment he was caught out, the surprise clearly visible in his widening eyes, before his expression smoothed to one of utter blankness. But the damage was done. Amora didn't grab at the vulnerability she had uncovered, though, nor give any other indication that she meant to take advantage of her new gained knowledge. She just continued to smile into the fire like nothing had happened.

“I can make a guess which of my memories would appeal to you for that purpose,” she ventured, “and you are welcome to them.”

Her gaze turned from the fire towards Loki.

“It's not like they ever did me any good, even if I finally did learn from them,” she concluded.

The rush of adrenaline had settled back down by now, leaving Loki to ponder her response with a clear head, or as clear as it would get, these days.

“Yes, I can see that.” He smiled at her then, the shared pain of loving too much unspoken between them. No, she wouldn't miss a few memories of love and rejection, not with the plethora of them all.

 

*

 

Amora led Loki out of the door after their business was concluded. No point in wasting time lingering. Before he could step of her porch she reached out to him, though, lightly touching upon his arm. He raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“The Queen has sought me out,” she finally admitted, utterly flooring Loki for the second time that day. “She said to give you her love, when we next meet. She'll be waiting.”

“Well...” he broke off with a small cough to clear his throat. “That certainly explains that, then.”

Amora nodded.

“Now you do not have to worry any longer about others being aware. If any of them are, I haven't heard of it, and neither has she.”

Loki nodded his thanks at the unexpected reassurance. He did indeed feel safer knowing his plans were known only to a select few, thus far. It lessened the likelihood of any of them trying to interfere with them.

“Thank you, Amora.”

Loki turned to step off the porch, walking back down the path, the seven new pearls resting inside the specially warded pouch inside his coat. They too would find their way into the box on top of the small shelf, waiting there until it became time for Loki to take them  back out again and start on the next stretch of his task.


	7. Wandering down Memory Lane

The first Avenger Loki decided to seek out for help with his task was Steve Rogers, the soldier. Loki remembered all too well how unfortunate the first meeting between him and Tony had been. His lover had told him about it at length one evening, when they had both been a little too generous with the Asgardian mead Thor had brought to the tower. They both had laughed at the irony of it having been the fight against Loki that had gotten Tony and Steve to a sort of grudging respect towards each other, which by then had developed to a rather good friendship. Steve and Loki, on the other hand...

_“You just can't resist, can you? Shouldn't such an easy target be beneath you or something?”_

That got a curl of Loki's lip.

“But he does look so droll when he tries to figure out if I am actually serious, does he not?”

 _“...you little shit! You've been doing that to make_ me _laugh, haven't you? Nothing to do with his primness at all! Should have known...”_

Loki could hear Tony's sweet laughter in his mind now, remembered that mischievous twinkle hiding in the warm brown eyes when Tony tried not to let on how much he was really amused by Loki's little tricks. How Loki had loved to tease that laughter out of Tony. Probably as much as he missed hearing it now.

It was that friendship between Tony and Steve Rogers that Loki was counting on now. The fact that Steve had taken just one look at Tony after one of Loki's tricks and simply smiled, shaking his head and waving it off instead of getting all righteous and offended by Loki's inappropriate sense of humor.

It was with that in mind that Loki knocked at the simple apartment door in Brooklyn, the place Rogers kept insisting on keeping for when shenanigans in the tower got too much, and the place Loki was sure he would be now, since he would not have to miss Tony's presence so obviously within his own four walls. And if Loki's reasoning for not seeking out the living quarters of the Avengers tower first ran along similar lines of thought, no one needed to know. The sound of footsteps coming closer drew Loki out of his musings, and he raised his gaze just in time to meet that of a very surprised looking Steve Rogers.

 

“Loki?” Wide eyed and open mouthed, clearly he had not expected to see Loki any time soon, or under these circumstances. It made Loki wonder for a moment what the good Captain had expected.

_“Given your dramatic tendencies, probably another portal party.” -Are we actually joking about that now?_

_“Did we ever not joke about it? Apart from Clint I mean.”_

In front of him, Steve shifted his weight a little uncertainly from one foot to the other, recapturing Loki's attention and dragging him away from his internal conversation.

“Captain Rogers, my apologies!” Loki smiled, probably less charming than his usual, judging by Steve's slight retreat in reaction.

“Is everything alright? Is Tony...”

“Tony is not dead.”

He watched Steve's shoulder's visibly sag at that, a gust of breath expelled at the news.

 _“Yet. Still a work in progress, huh?” -_ That _we do not joke about!_

His mind stayed silent.

“Tony is not dead,” Loki repeated for Steve's benefit, as much as his own. “And I am trying to keep it that way. I would ask your help with this, for Tony's sake, not my own.”

Steve stepped aside, indicating for Loki to come on in.

“Of course, anything I can do to help! How is he? You two were gone before we quite made it to your location, and Thor-”

“Yes, my brother probably painted a rather bleak picture, I would assume.”

Steve nodded his head, his wish to be reassured by Loki that Thor had been wrong obvious in the eagerness on his face.

“Unfortunately, although Tony is not dead, my brother's report of events is likely closer to the truth than we both would like it to be,” Loki sighed, hating to concede that much to reality.

They made their way into the front room where Steve indicated the sofa for Loki to sit while taking the chair himself, sitting opposite Loki at an angle. Resting his elbows on his knees he leaned towards Loki, hands held together.

“So what exactly is going on with Tony then, and how can I help?”

Good Steve Rogers. Dependable, helpful, always there for a friend in need, or even as a stranger when you need a hand, regardless of personal costs. Loki counted especially on the last one.

“Tony was succumbing to his injuries when I removed us from the field of battle.” Loki answered. This part did not get easier, no matter how he worded it. Raising his gaze to look Steve in the eyes, he continued.

“I placed his body into a magical stasis to stop the progress, but there is hardly any life left in him and even less chance of finding a cure, before the damage becomes irreversible, even in stasis. Magic can only do so much, I fear.” He did not mention that the healers of Asgard might very well have been able to help. There was no sense in sidetracking Roger's attention with that. It would be a waste of both their time, and more importantly of Tony's, so Loki went on.

“There is a possibility that this can still be fixed, but it requires time and compensation of a certain means.”

Steve raised his eyebrow at that.

“Compensation? I take it we're not talking money here, cause you could have gotten that from Tony's accounts, with or without Ms. Potts' approval.”

“Correct. What I am in need of is much more difficult to acquire, I fear. For this incident to not end tragically, I would have to offer a trade, of a sort.” He saw Rogers straighten up in his chair at the implications.

“A life for a life?” Steve asked, looking a bit skeptical at the idea.

“In a way, only no one would have to actually die for this approach to work.” Loki was quick to reassure him. “There is a way to create an item that can hold the value and experience of a life, and this item would be offered instead of Tony's life. There is no guarantee that the item will be accepted even then, but I wish to attempt it still.”

“So no one has to die? Not even early by trading a few hours of their life or something like that?” Steve questioned, just to be clear on that. He knew all too well how tricky Loki and his words could be.

“No, no one will have to die, or lose any time of their lifespan for me to be able to create this item.” Loki confirmed.

“Who exactly are we trading with?”

The corner of Loki's mouth went up a little at the phrasing of that question.

“The physical manifestation of **_Death_** herself.”

“ _ **Death**_? You mean to tell me that _**Death**_ is an actual person now, walking and talking and all that included?”

“ _ **She**_ rarely talks, actually. **_She_** has no need to speak, so that others may comprehend **_Her_** meaning. But yes, **_Death_** is a person and it is with _**Her**_ that we would need to trade. I am more than capable of creating the item needed for this to happen and I do possess the knowledge needed for the task, but I still need the ingredients, so to speak.”

“So you've come here to ask for these ingredients then, I take it?”

“Precisely. What I would need from you, Mr Rogers, are memories. Memories of a very specific sort, to weave into the object I wish to create.”

Steve leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, hands finally letting go of each other to rest on Steve's legs.

“Ok.”

That brought Loki up short a little. True, he had imagined that Rogers would be the least reluctant to give Loki what he needed, but this was easier than even Loki had counted on.

“Ok? You do not wish to ask further questions, first?”

“I might not trust you, but I trust that you will do what's right for Tony.” Steve answered calmly.

No, he and Loki did not see eye to eye on most things and neither was he under any illusion that this might change any time soon, if ever. But Steve had lived with Tony, and more recently Tony and Loki and he had seen them together. What he had seen made him trust Loki's motives at least as far as Tony's wellbeing were concerned.

”So, how do we do this?”

Loki let go of the breath he had been holding quietly, eyes sinking close in relief for a short moment. Opening them once more, he rose from his seat on the sofa and moved towards Steve with renewed purpose.

“The whole thing is really quite simple and rather anticlimactic. While you concentrate on the memories that I require from you, I will extract them with the help of a spell and give them a physical form.”

Looking down at the still sitting Steve he took in the slightly unsure but still determined look on the man's face at the mention of the word 'extract'. Steve would not deny Loki what he needed of him for Tony's sake, but he still was worried.

“You will still retain those memories in a way but they will be more like a shadow of the original, a flimsy impression left behind. There will be no gaps in your memory, nor will you significantly change as a result of this. There will merely be a lack of emotional response when recalling these moments in time.”

_“Going soft there, Lokes? Not like you to be holding people's hands like this.”_

Loki could feel the teasing smirk that went with those words, but chose to ignore them in favor of concentrating on Steve and the spell he was about to place on the man.  
Steve himself looked calmer meanwhile, relief clear in the lessening of tensions throughout his body and expression.

“Thank you, that's good to know.”

Loki simply nodded. It had been a small concession to Tony's friend, nothing personal on Loki's side.

“If you are ready, then we may begin now. The procedure is rather simple and should not take much time at all. I will describe what kind of memory I need, the emotions connected to it, the way it may have affected you, or perhaps something more mundane, like tying your shoes or drinking coffee in the little café around the corner. Once I finish my description, I will ask you to remember. You will then recall the memory best suited to my description. You will recall it with the most detail you are able to put to it and once you are certain that you are remembering to the best of your ability, you tap my hand with your finger, and I will then extract that memory from you.”

Loki looked down at Steve, eyebrow raised in question.

“Yeah, ok. You tell me what to remember, I remember it as clearly as I can, then I tap your hand and you will get that memory out of my head somehow. That about it?”

Loki nodded, satisfied that Steve understood the process.

“For this to work most efficiently, I will have to touch you. Physical contact usually makes for a better conduit with magic. I will place one hand onto your forehead, my other hand will be held out close to your left hand, within easy reach. Will that suit you?”

This time Steve's nod was more decisive, his eyes only holding determination.

“Lets get on with it, then.” Steve sighed, preparing himself mentally for what was bound to be an unpleasant experience.

Loki lifted his left hand to Steve's forehead, placing his open palm against it as if he was feeling for a fever, while his right arm stayed relaxed, only his hand turning palm upwards close to Steve, as if he was holding out something to the other man.

“Now, I want you to think of your mother, and the look in her eyes every time your father fell drunken through the door, too inebriated to even keep his legs under himself. I want you to remember the way he looked at you, when he saw you witnessing him in all his disgrace...”

 

*

 

When Loki finally left Steve's apartment, it was with a hand full of beads stored away within the special pouch held inside his. A sweating, shaken soldier left behind with maybe a little more understanding in that soldier's heart of the man they were trying to save.

 

*

 

After Rogers it got a little easier. Word traveled fast in this little group of struggling heroes, and by the time he left Natasha Romanov, he knew Barton would be expecting his visit long before he set foot into his latest hideout. Between the Avengers and some other people closer to Tony, Loki found others, people not immediately entangled in Tony Stark's life and heartstrings. People that did not mind reliving a memory or two for him, to be able to finally dull the brightness and sheer intensity of them, to feel a little less haunted.

The little wooden box on top of the shelf inside their hut kept filling, beads adding to it little by little over the weeks and months that Loki kept at his task. He found others still that did not mind dulling one or two of their better memories, to give a little happiness to those that needed it more than they felt they did, simply because they had so much of it.

Those still baffled Loki the most, truth be told. It was still hard for him to understand that one would not guard those precious moments jealously, ferociously, and instead chose to give them away freely. They did not seem to be troubled losing that bright shine, that flutter in their hearts when recalling that same memory after having shared it, either. It made Loki think a lot about the nature of happiness, and how it related to attitude.

Loki might have been able to ignore the readiness of those gifts if he had been going about getting them in his usual way, obfuscating and sweet talking, spinning lies like only a trickster could, cheating them out of happiness. But he had to be honest, had to disclose his needs and their consequences, for the memories to be even of use to him. Freely given. No tricks, no lies. It made Loki wonder about the things people were willing to freely give, without feeling poorer for it.

_“Still all idiots, then?”_

“Oh just shut it, will you?” Loki grumbled, sitting at the small writing table that had become his workbench in their little hut, eyes fixed on the growing pile of beads while his mind kept wandering back through the process of their collection.

_“No can do, Lokes. You specifically told me not to, after all. You would miss my dulcet tones wayyyy too much anyway.”_

“I would.” Loki admitted, finally turning away from the beads and raising himself from the wooden chair to cross the few steps over to the doorway that led into the other room.

Leaning in the doorway, Loki took in the sparely furnished room and it's single bed.

“I do.” Loki whispered, looking at Tony's still form stretched out on that bed.

Tony was unnaturally still, not a hair moving, no breath rising it his chest, nor heartbeat fluttering along his neck.

Vacant.  
Cold.  
Quiet.

Next to the bed stood the small crate still, functioning as a bedside table and carrying the glowing magical sphere upon it that Loki had created on their first day. Tony hated darkness, couldn't stand being enclosed by it and Loki felt unable to just leave him in it, surrounded by it and alone, while Loki himself ventured into the worlds and got to feel the sun and the rain on his skin. So he had made that light for Tony, no matter how pointless it seemed since Tony couldn't actually see it, or anything else for that matter. Loki tried to tell himself that it was so he could be sure that when Tony finally did wake up, it would not be in the dark. It sounded plausible enough, as long as he did not think on it too hard.

With a sigh Loki turned back towards the table-cum-workbench and the collection of beads thereon. The candle light had them shining in a myriad of colors, waiting to be assembled. A black velvet cloth had found its way onto the table as well by now, its surface sufficiently rough yet soft to keep the beads spilling everywhere the moment Loki placed them on the flat surface.

“Almost enough, but not quite.” Loki murmured to himself. A few essential memories were still missing, before Loki could start on assembling the necklace. He had some ideas on where to get them.


	8. The Mines of Nidavellir

Loki held onto Tony's legs as his lover settled astride his lap, lining Loki's erection up with his entrance and sinking down on it in tortuously slow moves, wringing a needy little moan from Loki's parted lips. Loki watched as Tony bit his lower lip on a smile, watching Loki's reaction in turn as he tried not to move, not to simply push up into Tony's slick heat and take.

In turn Tony took his sweet time, teased Loki with little downward moves, before clenching around him and pulling back up again, just to repeat the move a moment later. By the time Tony had taken half of Loki in, still smiling, lips swollen and shining from where he kept biting at them, Loki himself was reduced to begging, the flexing of his fingers leaving little bruises behind on Tony's legs.

“...please! Tony, please my love, please I need -Ah!”

With one swift motion Tony sunk down all the way, his weight settling fully on Loki as he cursed, taking a moment to acclimate to the fullness inside of him.

Oh how Tony loved making Loki beg for him, being the one to break apart all of Loki's composure and pride and make him need! But he never did so for long, new better than to stretch the game out too long and let Loki feel truly weak. For Tony, Loki would beg, even if just a little. Tony had earned that, deserved at least that much from him.

“Please my love, move!” Loki whispered now, experiencing true difficulty in keeping his own hips still, the muscles of Tony's channel fluttering around his cock, teasing and promising, making Loki want to chase their pleasure with deep, hard strokes.

Tony chuckled, smile wide and open as he looked down on Loki, but then finally began to circle his hips, lifting them in increments before sinking back down on Loki's cock, groaning as he managed to get the angle just right.

“So polite when you're needy." Tony murmured, before leaning his head back and letting the sensations wash through him, putting more energy into the movement of his hips to chase after his own pleasure.

Loki watched, mesmerized, as Tony fucked himself with abandon on his cock, took his pleasure with no apparent thought for Loki's, moans and little mewls falling freely from his lips without even a touch of embarrassment. Tony was stunning in his beauty like this, free and wild and all Loki's, even while acting like Loki was nothing but the hard cock he happened to need right now. They both knew he needed it because it was Loki's, after all.  
Because Tony needed Loki just as much as Loki needed Tony.

“Do you miss it?” Tony asked, his smile now directed back towards Loki, turning soft and indulgent around the edges as he looked down at his lover.

Loki bit his lip, trying to reign in his confusion and follow Tony's line of thought despite the truly distracting pleasure the other provided him with.

“Do I miss...what?” he finally settled on, unable to remember what they might have talked about before that would prompt this particular question.

A touch of sadness crept into Tony's smile at Loki's apparent incomprehension, and dread started to build underneath the pleasure within Loki. He didn't know why, but he was sure all of a sudden he did not want to know the answer to his question. Which was worrisome in and of itself, since Loki always wanted to know the answers.

“Do you miss feeling me? Touching me like this?” Tony finally elaborated.

Loki's confusion only intensified, the pleasure having muted to nothing but white noise in the background, still there, but inconsequential.

“Why would I miss it? I am feeling you! I am touching you right now Tony.” Loki squeezed the thigh under his right hand hard to emphasize that.

Tony's smile stayed sad, stayed constant, as he picked up Loki's hand from where it was trying to make a point and lifted it to his face. Turning it, he placed a gentle kiss onto the center of the palm, before pressing it against his own face and looking back down to meet Loki's confused and now ever more panicked gaze.

“You are dreaming, my love.”

Loki shook his head, eyes wide in panic, trying to hold onto Tony's warm and solid form to reassure him that no, it wasn't so! The light in Tony's eyes faded with the colors, the solid weight of him turning to a trickle of dust where it slipped through Loki's fingers and ran over his skin, before falling away all together.

“No!” Loki frantically tried to catch the dust in his now empty hands, to push it back together, to somehow recreate, but wherever he touched he only managed to smear gray stains like ash onto fabric and skin...

_”NO!”_

...Loki woke, hands still searching, still grasping at nothing. His heart was racing, aching with the loss even his dreams would not let him rest from, breath still rattling in his chest, incredibly loud in the ringing silence of his dark room. Lifting one shaking hand up to his face, his fingers confirmed his suspicion as they came away wet. The cool air seemed to burn in his throat, and he wondered if he'd screamed as loud in this world as he had in his dream.

That would become an issue soon. He would have to take care of that before long, he thought, as he curled up on his side and away from the empty part of the bed. Absentmindedly he held his right hand with his left and started rubbing the palm in tiny circular motions with his thumb, where he could almost feel the impression of soft lips, their absence leaving his skin chilled to the bone.

 

*

 

It was a few hours later when Loki stepped into the dark heat of the mines in the heart of Nidavellir, the dwarven smiths' hammers ringing loudly as they shaped the precious metals over their anvils, and thus covering the sound of Loki's arrival. The air felt heavy, as if the tons and tons of mountain stone above the caves were slowly pressing it inwards, and Loki wondered if Tony's dislike for caves had infected his mind.

 _“Lovely. Please tell me we're for a quick visit, emphasis on the quick part?”_ The voice in his mind complained, as if summoned by Loki's thoughts. For all that he knew, it likely had been.

“Only if they kick us out, which they very well might, my love. Which would not be a good thing in this case, unfortunately for you.”

His answer was a ringing silence with a feel of disgruntlement to it, but no further protest.  
With a sigh of his own Loki stepped forwards, keeping to the shadows for now in search of one specific dwarven smith he wished to strike a bargain with.

It felt like the air itself was trying to sear Loki's skin off of his flesh by the time he finally found the brothers deep within the caves. As always Brokk worked the bellows, while Eitri swung his hammer to create masterpiece after masterpiece, purely for the pleasure of creation. Any other but Loki would likely have bided his time in the shadows, waiting and observing, searching for the opportune moment. But Loki knew that moments such as that hardly ever happened by themselves, but were created by the opportunist.

Loki stepped out of the shadows and into the glow of the fire, where the two brothers were hard at work. He caught Brokk's gaze over the bellows and saw his eyes widen in surprise, before they narrowed to angry little slits. Not once did he falter in his work though, steadily moving the bellows for his brother. Instead he gave a grunt towards his Eitri, then nodded his head towards Loki, who stepped around so Eitri could look upon him while still swinging his hammer. Neither brother said a word, both keeping at their work as if nothing had happened, ignoring Loki to the best of their ability until, finally, their work was finished.

“You have some nerve coming back here, Silvertongue.” Eitri's demeanor made his thoughts clearer than the scorn in his words did, as if Loki could have had any doubt about his reception after the last time they had met.

The smile stayed fixed on Loki's face, but his mask had long since begun to crack, ever since that day...the smile stayed fixed. Even Eitri could see the hollowness behind its façade. Some of the vitriol turned into satisfaction in the dwarf, and Loki let him have his little victory without a fight, watching him stand a little straighter, a little less guarded and a lot more inclined to gloat at Loki's obvious misfortune, whatever it might have been that forced him back into these mines.

“Let's hear it then, Asgardian. What has brought the Princeling crawling back to ask a dwarf's favor? Or am I to believe you are here for the pleasure of my company alone?”

Taking his cue, Loki gave a self-deprecating chuckle, stepping closer to the dwarf, but staying well out of range of those strong fists still.

“I would hardly dare insult your intelligence by even trying to imply thus, Master Eitri. We both know better than that.” Loki kept moving, reluctant to present a still target for the dwarf, even if it did not look like he would attack Loki right now, at least not without sufficient provocation.

_“You sure know how to pick 'em, Reindeer games.”_

_-Not now, darling._

_“Hmph.”_ Loki's smile grew a little more genuine at the grumble in his mind, and a touch wistful with it.

When he looked up next, both Eitri and the thus far silent Brokk looked at Loki differently. The hostility was not gone, by any means, but their gaze seemed more questioning, curious rather than judging. Well, Eitri's gaze did. Brokk's might have turned curious, but the hostility stayed right where it was in his case. To have Eitri concede some of his justified animosity towards Loki so easily though, that made Loki wonder if any of his mask was actually still left in place outside of that ever present smile, if even those two could apparently read him so well despite his efforts.

“I have come to offer you a trade, Master Eitri. No wagers, no tricks, to which I will gladly give you my word if you will but take it. I only ask that you hear me out before you make up your mind on it. Should the terms not meet with your agreement, I will leave you to your own devices, no harm done.”

The dark haired dwarf regarded Loki, scrutinizing every little detail about the sorcerer that had once tricked him out of his winnings with his skilled words, and looked towards his brother for council, who simply shrugged in reply. His mistrust of Loki was apparent in his eyes, but curiosity won out and Brokk did not have anything to add either way, it seemed, and so Eitri simply nodded to Loki, letting him know that, yes, they would hear him out.

Loki tried to not make his relief at that too obvious. Good. He could work with this.

“I realize that my coming here and asking to trade with you once more is a tall order by any man's standards, so let me open with offering you at least some of the satisfaction that has been denied to you the last time we have met.”

Eitri's brows rose at that, the disbelief apparent in the dwarf's face, but he did not interrupt Loki's speech.

“When we last met, I cheated you out of your just winnings, I admit. But seeing as those winnings would have been my head, which I am still rather fond of keeping on my body, I hope you will understand my reluctance in simply handing it over,” Loki smiled charmingly, though keeping the charm on the low, lest he offend the brothers rather than gain their sympathies.

Brokk gave Loki the usual scowl at his words, whereas Eitri's mouth at least offered a little twitch of reluctant amusement.

“When your brother then, quite fairly, asked for retribution in the form of sewing my mouth shut, the Allfather would not hear of it done to a prince of Asgard, leaving you both with only monetary compensation.”

Eitri nodded, but left it at that, arms crossed in front of his barrel chest. The dwarf had been livid at the time, but it seemed he was less grudge bearing than a lot of his kind, or even a lot of Asgard, and Loki once again wanted to thank the fates for small favors.

“I now offer you that satisfaction, Master Eitri, be the bargain struck or not, you may sew my lips shut before I leave these mines in retribution for my folly. Will that satisfy you?”

Loki stood still, waiting on Eitri's answer. Brokk would go with whatever his brother decided, as it always had been, no matter how eager he was to teach Loki a lesson. Eitri was the one whose favor Loki needed to win for this to work.

Finally the dwarf in question relaxed his stance, his arms uncrossing and hanging loosely by his side as he gave his answer.

“I suppose it'll have to do, won't it?” He scratched the back of his head, giving Loki another look, this one quite different from the distrustful scrutiny from before. There seemed a touch of resignation in it, but Loki could not quite grasp its source. Before he could muse further on it, Eitri turned towards the doorway, throwing over his shoulder.

“Come on then, Silvertongue! Might as well have some food in our bellies while we hear your offer out.”

Looking towards Brokk and finding the dwarf nodding his head towards the exit, Loki finally did follow in Eitri's steps. Truth be told Loki had been prepared for a lot more groveling, closer to begging, even. Being invited to sit down and eat with his hosts almost threw him in its unexpectedness. Loki resolved to remain cautious, not quite trusting the good fortune, but also not going to risk it turning sour by being too obvious in his lack of trust. After all, the last time it had been him who had committed the treachery, not the dwarfs. That they had decided to hear him out at all was quite surprising.

It was over a hearty stew that tasted of game and mushrooms and the dark ale the dwarfs so favored that Loki detailed his need for acquiring a certain type of memories, specifically the ones of creation in this case. The fire of the forge and the creation of perfection from raw metals was an integral part of what had shaped his lover, not that he would tell that part to the dwarfs. They only needed to know that he needed, not why.

Yes, Loki was no stranger to forging metals himself, even creating weapons, but not on this scale, not with this dedication. Loki's dedication lay in his magic, whereas Tony's lay in his machines. Eitri was the closest Loki could get to that spark he had witnessed dancing in Tony's eyes whenever he got lost in thought, shortly before running out on Loki to disappear in his workshop for hours on end. Despite all the signs in his favor and the hospitality shown to him Loki was still struck speechless for a moment when Eitri gave his answer.

“Very well, Liesmith. I believe we have a bargain,” Eitri said, after inspecting the rare gemstones Loki had brought along in offer of payment.

“You shall have your memories, and I will enrich mine when I close that lying mouth of yours with needle and thread, at least for a little while! But know this: You back out of it this time, and not even Asgard will be able to save that pretty head of yours from our just retribution! Are we understood?” Numbly Loki nodded, taking the outstretched hand to shake on it.

“I believe we are, Master Eitri. You have my word that I will fulfill my end of the bargain as we have agreed upon here.”

“Might as well get it over and done with then. What memories exactly are you in need of, then? You said creation, but not every creation is the same, as you might know.”

*

Later, when Loki could see the satisfied gloat in Brokk's eyes as he held down Loki's head for Eitri's work, Loki himself welcomed the pain as the awl pierced his flesh, before strong yet nimble fingers forced the leather string through the bleeding wounds. There was no shame in crying then, and Loki did so quietly. And despite the satisfaction in Brokk's eyes, there was reluctance in Eitri's gaze, though his hands never wavered, his fingers never stilled, until the work was done.

When Loki made to stand back up, ready to depart the mines, the pouch with beads in hues of fire and glowing metals secured in his pocket, he almost expected the pat on the should the older dwarf gave him before he rose. When it actually came, it still was a surprise.


	9. Homecoming

When Loki stepped into the warmly lit cave that night, he felt drained. The memories of creation he had felt through Eitri when extracting them had made him miss Tony even more fiercely than before and the dream turned nightmare this morning had only made that ache all the more potent when he recalled Tony in his shop, working away the hours as if it were nothing. The pain of the awl had felt cleansing in a way and so much easier to bear than the less physical pain of that empty place by his side.

When Loki raised his head to look at Verdandi in greeting, the Nornir stilled in shock. Loki would smile if he could but his lips were swollen still and the idea of it alone was too painful in that moment. After another breath Verdandi finally raised her eyes from the rough stitches in his lips to Loki's own. He found sadness there, yes, but also acceptance and trust that Loki would know best what he had to do, and no criticism of how he'd gone about it. It made Loki grateful that it was these three that he had to seek out at the beginning of his journey, these wise women who offered him and Tony shelter.  
Verdandi simply nodded towards the empty chair by the fire, before she went to take one of the bowls off of the set table.

Skuld smiled at him, the same understanding sadness in her eyes but no pity, nor judgment. Loki felt his drawn shoulders relax a little, still tired, but less guarded now.  
When he sank into the chair by the fire, Urd just smiled at him knowingly from her place in the chair across. Loki could have wept, had he the strength for it left.

“Verdandi will give you some ointment for those before you leave.” She nodded towards his stitched lips.

“No need to punish yourself more than you already are.”

Loki nodded his thanks at that. It would still be painful enough without having it dry and chafe, after all.

“Skuld has been keeping an eye on your hut while you were gone. Nothing has changed, for better or worse,” the old Nornir continued, “and your mother sent word. Odin is looking for you.”

That had Loki sit up straight, anxious eyes wide open.

“Do not fret, he will not find you and your mother won't be telling him. Nor will your brother, for that matter.”

The huff Loki gave at that while turning his gaze from her to the fire told Urd all she needed to know about what Loki thought of that.

“Odin might be a king, but even he cannot command a heart. It might have taken them a while, but they have seen that his judgment of you is unjust and his interference more hindrance than help. I will tell you again, little Mischief; Do not fret! They love you, and they wish for you to succeed. Your mother's presence alone should have told you as much.”

Loki thought of the last thing Frigga had slipped into his hand while pressing a kiss to his cheek, before he left Asgard officially banished for his crimes.

 _Give my regards to Anthony,_ she had said, before stepping away with a smile.

The golden fruit was now hidden away in one of Loki's secret dimensional pockets. Always close, but out of reach for anyone but himself. With a quiet sigh Loki let himself sink back against the chair again, his gaze less worried now and more contemplative. He could believe that Frigga would not give them away, not unless outright asked by Odin in a way that would make hiding them treason to Asgard. She was good with her words, his mother. Thor on the other hand...

_“He has Jane, remember? Pesky little mortal wench that pissed you off first time around, the one you told me has a good strength for a mortal? Well I think attaching yourself to humans does something to that deified programming of your lot. Your priorities suddenly get all mixed up and reorganized.”_

Loki considered that. Thought about how much being with Tony had changed him, and the very short amount of time it took to be visibly effective, to the extent that even Loki could not deny it any longer. He frowned, remembering how much it had hurt at the time that a mortal had wrought change such as this in his brother, after the centuries Loki had been rebuffed, put in his place, back somewhere in Thor's shadow. Available when convenient but never truly trusted, never truly accepted.

_“I know he did a number on you Lokes, but he did it because he was an ignoramus. Arrogant and full of his own importance. Not cause he didn't love you. And I would know what the fuck I'm talking about, so trust me on this one, okay? Damn it, you accused him of being too sentimental yourself during the invasion!”_

_-Outch! You wound me, darling. I thought we do not talk about that?_

_“Bullshit. We talk about it all the time. We just use different words for it so Hawkeye doesn't lay an egg in the vents.”_

Loki closed his eyes, smiling at their old banter. The pain of it had a single tear trailing hotly down his cheek.

 _-I suppose you do have a point,_ he finally conceded.

From her chair, Urd kept watching, her heart filled with sorrow for the little boy that had fallen through their window and the man he had been forced to become.

“They will not tell,” she finally reiterated, when it seemed like Loki's internal struggle had been resolved.

Loki's eyes opened again, looking back at her in a calm manner now, before he gave a nod of assent.  
“Your father is a fool,” she continued.

“Same as the other was. Only this one's still alive.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at that. Urd had known Laufey?

On the other side of the hut, Skuld gave Verdandi a look of her own.

 _Now?_ it seemed to ask.

Verdandi simply shrugged, then nodded in reply.

_Now, it would seem._

They bent their heads down towards their tasks, ears attentive to the corner of their cave that held the fire.

 _Well, I suppose at least he won't be able to interrupt like this,_  Verdandi thought to herself, smirking but still worried.

Back by the fire, Urd put the yarns she had been sorting back into the basket, and put that basket aside. Folding her hands onto her lap, she finally continued speaking.

“Yes, I knew your first father, Laufey. He was my grandson.”

Loki's eyes widened, as the implications of that statement sank in.

Sitting stock still in his chair by the fire, he could do nothing but stare at the old woman with wide uncomprehending eyes. To her credit, Urd did not falter, nor did she avert her gaze.

“He was my grandson, born many millennia back and we fell out like it appears only our kind is capable of.” She sighed, bitter smile twisting her lips.

“Our grudges often last near as long as our lives do, Little Mischief. We waste so much time on feeling slighted and angry and hardly spend any of it on actually fixing what caused us wrong in the first place. So much waste.” She sighed, looking tired herself now, as she gazed into the flames just as Loki had done, contemplating.

“I could give you stories and recount tales, but what it really comes down to is that Laufey wished to go one way and it was not the way this old woman saw fit to travel. I do not know how it was that I failed him, for fail him I did, or he would not have craved the conquering and war as he did. I failed again, when I did not learn of you before Odin brought you to my house for the first time.”

Loki just kept staring, wide eyed and speechless in more ways than the obvious one.

“I knew when I first lay eyes on you that you were not of Odin's house, not by blood at least. I had heard about the war, of course, though we kept away from it. But your smile...” She sighed again, long and full of regret.

“Your smile, that I knew very well. So I searched, I asked, and I found answers.” Looking back towards the flames, she gave both of them a rest to digest what had been said.

Loki just kept staring, kept looking at her pale wrinkled skin and tried to fit in the new pieces of this puzzle, so much larger in its entirety than even he had ever dared to imagine. He wanted to rage, to scream, to shake the old hag and demand why! He wanted to cry with the futility of it all. Fighting his way out of one cage, one web of lies, just to discover again and again that he had never left it in the first place! That he, at most, just had cut one single strand of it. The world seemed to dim a little at the edges, Loki's vision tunneling in as the blood rushed louder in his ears.

 _“Loki._ Loki! _For fuck's sake, snap out of it, you are using up all the air in here!”_

Slowly, arduously, Loki calmed his breathing again, closing his eyes and using Tony's voice as his anchor, his focus point. He had been hyperventilating, it appeared. The stress of this latest revelation more than his tired mind could hope to cope with.

_“You ok there, Reindeer Games?”_

_-No, I am most definitely not ok!_ Loki could feel a sigh within him not his own in response to that thought.

_“Yeah, that was definitely a bomb to spring on you like that, but it's not like that shit's something she could have eased you into, I suppose. Just...hear her out, before you go blowing up worlds again, okay?”_

This time, the sigh was emphatically Loki's.

No, Loki was not ok but he would be. He would get there and he would _not_ let this get in the way of it. He would take the ingredients he had so painstakingly assembled, he would fashion them into a necklace worthy of **_Her_** consideration and he would get Tony back to where he belonged! He would get Tony back and everything else would just have to wait until after that had happened. In the unlikely event that it didn't...well, it was not a path he would ever consider walking down.

Finally giving a small, almost imperceptible nod, Loki opened his eyes again. He would hear Urd out and then he would leave to rest before he would continue his work.

Urd meanwhile had been waiting, watching Loki's internal struggle and the way he subsequently overcame it. When Loki's eyes opened once more to meet hers, she wanted to smile, proud of the man he had become, despite it all. She also knew that this man would be the last to seek her approval right now. If anything it would be the final stroke to send him away from her, fleeing into the opposite direction. Loki was done with seeking the acceptance and approval of those that should have given it without being asked and she could not fault him for that. So she kept her face still, her lips unmoved, and waited.  
When Loki bade her with a nod to continue, to finish her tale, she did so without hesitation.

“I knew not that you were of my blood when you first set foot into this place but I suspected. What I found out in the time after, in my search for the truth, confirmed my suspicions. I went to Laufey at last, asking him myself about the child he had sired and he told me you were dead. For all I could tell, he believed it to be true at that time. I did not correct him. Maybe that was wrong of me, but he did not look like he would deserve another chance at fatherhood, nor like he would accept it gladly if it were offered. The little boy I had met, he looked _happy_ where he was, so I resolved to watch and not interfere, for the time being. By the time I learned better, the little boy was gone and I was foolish still, believing him to be better off with the Aesir and their king.”

Loki did not indicate his opinion on that one way or another, simply kept watching her, so Urd continued.

“I was foolish and once again you had to pay the price for someone else's mistake. So it is not only the one time that I have failed you, when Odin ceased to bring you along with him on his visits and I did nothing to change it, but many times before that. I will not ask your forgiveness, for what is done is done and I have done nothing yet that would warrant you to consider it. What I would ask of you, Loki, is that you may grant me the chance of one day earning it.”

She took a deep breath, her words now almost at an end.

“Whether you find it in yourself to grant that chance or not is, of course, entirely up to you and I will not attempt to sway you either which way. Too many have tried that and yet nothing good has come of it for you. Regardless of what you decide in the end, you will always be welcome here, and the hut will always be open to you, should you or yours need rest and respite. If you have questions, once you are in a condition to bring them forth, I will do my best to answer them to your satisfaction. Until then, I will speak no more of this, unless you ask for it. That is all I have to say for now.”

Loki considered her words, a calmness of sorts sank over him as the result of too much, numbing him to the overload of emotion and letting it simply wash through him and out. When it was certain that there would indeed be no further revelations, he finally rose from his chair and walked past Skuld and Verdandi without acknowledging either and out of the cave to heading for the hut to rest.

*

“Well, I guess that could have gone worse.” Skuld murmured, looking after the slim figure as it walked away.

“It went as well as could be hoped for, under the circumstances,” Verdandi agreed.

Finally they filled their bowls, having silently decided to forgo the meal until Loki had left, since it seemed rather insensitive to eat in front of one who could not partake. In hindsight, maybe that would have been the lesser evil, at least from Loki's perspective.

“Now he knows. Time will show what he does with that knowledge,” Urd agreed, declining the bowl Skuld held out to her and turning back to watch the flames. '

She felt old tonight, down to her bones and not the least bit hungry.


	10. Needle and Thread

Entering their little hut, Loki went straight to the workbench, eyes to the ground, just focusing on his steps. Adding the beads from his pocket to the growing pile had a feeling of finality to it. It was done. They would be enough, he was finished collecting them. Now it was time to start stringing the beads, one by one, to interweave the strings into something that resembled the interplay of moments and memories that turned past into character, time into a life lived.

Unbidden a memory of Urd's old hands pushed its way to the forefront of his mind, strong fingers like gnarled tree roots nimbly manipulating the threats, teaching him how to weave a spell the Nornir way. He wondered for a moment if her hands looked just as wrinkled when they were blue. Would the markings add to it, or make them look stronger? Would their marks look at all similar, proclaim them as kin?

Closing his eyes in frustration, he banished the image and every thought of the old woman. This was not the time for it! Loki had work to do. Urd's lies would have to wait for another day.

Loki sat down decisively in the wooden chair and pulled the box containing needle and thread towards him. Any tiredness he had felt after his journey to the mines of Nidavellir had been pushed aside by the cold shock that had crashed through him, listening to Urd's words.

The calmness that had followed the shock did not last long and now Loki felt himself once more consumed by the burning anger that went hand in hand with every deception he had been blind enough to suffer. In as much as Loki was still capable of it, he had trusted that woman! He had  _\- No! Stop it. This is not the time._

Taking a deep and calming breath, Loki began arranging his tools as well as his ingredients onto the small workbench, setting them out within easy reach but far enough apart that he would not accidentally knock one into the other. On the now empty spot in front of him he put the cloth of finest black velvet, spreading it out like a canvas, ready to bear the masterpiece that would get even **_Her_** attention and approval.

Pushing all other thoughts aside, he threaded the needle made from his daughter's bone, the red thread vibrant like life itself against the pale white and set to threading the beads, one by one, for the first row, keeping with the darkest ones for now.

Concentrating on his work, matching every memory to the next not only by its color, but also its size and meaning, all else soon fell away and the anger and frustration that had filled Loki when setting foot into the hut transformed into merely energy, fuel for a long night spent by the light of the candles, threading and weaving quietly.

It was several hours later when a knock on the door finally broke Loki's concentration, and all at once he felt tiredness overcome him, like it had been waiting quietly in the shadows for just such a moment. Carefully, he put the needle down onto the cloth and folded the edges over, so that the entirety of his work so far was covered by it. Flexing his fingers to get rid of the stiffness he had not even realized was overtaking them, he rose to get the door.

A second knocking rang through the quiet hut before he reached for the handle and opened it. On the step stood Verdandi, woven basket on her arm, head held high and unapologetic.

“I am aware you likely do not wish to see any of us right now but I also have a rather good idea that you won't have spent these last hours resting. If you want to keep this up without eating, at least let me put some ointment on those stitches. I'm sure your pride is a little price compared to what's at stake should they fester and hold you back.”

She raised her eyebrows in challenge, daring him to disagree.

Eventually Loki pulled open the door for her, turning around and stepping back inside without a gesture of acknowledgment beyond that.

Verdandi did not let it bother her as she followed his steps, closing the door behind her.  
Stepping towards the small dining table set in the middle of the room, she placed down her basket. Loki pulled out a chair for himself, sitting down at the table as if nothing of consequence had happened between them, but she knew better. What one of the three knew, the other two knew as well. That was the way it had always been and the way Loki knew it was in this case as well. Verdandi was guilty by association and only the low priority her crime held in comparison to his task, combined with simple necessity, had granted her entry at all.

Taking out the little earthen pot that held the ointment as well as some clean cloth and a shallow bowl, she placed the container onto the table before turning towards the corner that held the water barrel to fill her bowl. Stepping back towards Loki, she raised the damp cloth in her hand, making her intent clear.

When Loki raised his chin in mute compliance, she went ahead with the task of carefully cleaning the dried blood and grime of the mines off of Loki's swollen lips. The silence was heavy and held none of the usual melancholy warmth Verdandi had come to associate with this place now. Putting the cloth away once she was satisfied with the level of cleanliness achieved, she took up the ointment, warming it between her fingertips to make it spread more easily.

“There are some teas and herbs in the basket that will help you keep up your strength in the days to come.” She broke the silence at last. “There's also a few quills in there that should help with the drinking and some warm broth.”

She nodded towards the basket, but kept her eyes on her task, gently spreading the ointment around and over the wounds, taking care to spread it on the leather strings as well.

“Use this at least twice a day, if you can remember and take care to coat the leather so it stays subtle and will not tear your flesh needlessly.”

She straightened up again, wiping her hand on the folds of her skirt and at last met Loki's eyes. She wanted to explain, plead Urd's case and give a million and one reasons why they had not told him before this, but in the end she only said, “That man of yours will thank you for it, you know.”

Loki's eyes considered her, obviously having picked up on what she had wanted to say, but refrained from speaking aloud. Slowly he nodded, the gesture not forgiving, but tolerating at least.

They had vowed to themselves to trust Loki, and that meant also trusting him in his decisions, even if those decisions meant he would not return to them, once he was done here.

Giving a nod of her own, Verdandi turned back towards the door.

“If you need more of the herbs or the ointment, leave the basket by the door with your soup bowl and I will refill it for you. Otherwise, I will leave some broth for you by your step in the morning and evening, I won't come in in case you work or try to rest, so I won't disturb you in either,” she concluded, hand on the door handle. “Swift hands and good fortune, Little Mischief.”

With those final parting words she stepped through the door, closing it behind her quietly.

At the table, Loki turned his head from the now closed door towards the basket, lifting the cloth covering it to peer at the contents. Nestled between a few cloth wrapped bundles was an earthen bowl, covered by a lid. Placing his hand on it he found it still warm.  
Carefully Loki lifted it out of the basket and set it down on the table, then looked back into the basket for the quills. A long and thin packet of cloth seemed the most likely candidate and opening it he found several clean goose feather quills, stripped down and cut on both ends so they could function as a straw.

Taking out one from the pack, he lifted the lid from the bowl and took a cautious sniff.  
Chicken broth, strained and freed of all bits and pieces that might have lodged themselves in Loki's straw. Gingerly pressing one end of the quill between his sore lips, he lowered his head to dip the other end into the bowl, taking a sip of the by now warm but no longer hot broth.

The warmth felt good, spreading out from within and soothing the stress of the last hours in its own way, relaxing his tired muscles. Loki felt his eyelids grow heavier with every little sip, until most of the broth was gone and Loki himself had just enough strength of will left to drag himself towards the pallet he had placed into the corner of the small bedroom, so he could rest within sight of the bed and Tony.

Loki was still too worried he would move in his sleep and jostle the still body to actually consider sleeping on the bed with Tony, no matter how vast the space between them felt every night, or how much Tony's voice in his head kept chiding him for the needless rough sleep he subjected himself to because of this.

It would not be long now. He had collected all that he needed, and he had begun the last stages of his work. It would not be long until he could curl up against Tony's side again, elbowing him in his sleep for hogging the blanket, getting growled at for warming his cold feet between Tony's always warm legs. Growled at, but never pushed away. Loki let his eyes fall close, finally resting.

 

*

Loki worked diligently, hours turning into days, days into weeks, rows slowly being added to the necklace just to be unwoven the next day and redone, because one single bead was not sitting quite right, reflected the light all wrong or felt dissonant nestled there between its neighbors.

Loki worked quietly, accepting the offered broth he found in the mornings and evenings on his door step, but not engaging with the three beyond that. Sometimes he could hear Tony chattering away in his head, criticizing the décor of their dwelling or complaining about the senselessness of Loki sleeping practically on the floor, when there was a perfectly good bed right there, which on top of that happened to contain his lover. Surely one night's rest without aching back in the morning could not be all that bad, right?

Loki would smile despite the strings pulling on his lips, quietly threading another bead while in his mind recounting for Tony all the reasons why Loki would not risk aggravating Tony's injuries for a mere night's better rest. Those were the good days.

On other days there would be no voice in his mind, the hut quiet outside of the flickering and crackling of the log fire and the sound of Loki's even breathing. No step to creak on the wooden floor, no movements in the neighboring room or by the side of the house, except once in the morning and once in the evening.

Loki was filled with the realization that this would be his life should he fail at his task, that this quiet would follow Loki everywhere, take over his life and mute all other sound. Those were the bad days, when Loki felt himself get lost in the silence until his fingers would no longer cooperate and a slip of the finger or a sudden and fierce ache called him back to the here and now, and the emptiness surrounding him felt just as vast as the one inside.  
After days like those Loki more often than not had to redo some of the rows, too lost in the slippery slope of his own misery to pay enough attention to the life he was supposed to weave.

The mornings after those days were often followed by frustrated untangling of the mess his inattention and lack of discipline had caused and more often than not his own silent curses were soon interrupted by a soothing voice, telling him to shut up already and just get on with it, prattling along while Loki's shaking hands won back their usual calm grace and continued their work.

On the mornings it took longer for that voice to reappear, the shaking in Loki's hands got worse, until he had to put down the necklace and pace the hut, taking out his fear and frustration in the small necessary tasks of daily living that all too often fell by the wayside during those weeks. It was not until the voice returned that Loki would calm down again, his shivers receding until his hands could hold the needle without dropping it.

Loki was a genius in his own right, his accumulated knowledge only a small part of what made his mind great, and like many geniuses he used to fear little more than losing control over this, his greatest asset. Now his greatest fear was losing that voice, his questionable sanity a small price to pay compared to what it would mean to have that last piece of connection to Tony stripped away.

When Loki finally finished the necklace, the last string tied, the last bead woven into place, and nothing felt like it needed readjusting, it had been a little over a year since that fateful day he had set foot back on Midgard to watch his lover bleed out on the ground. Loki had worked throughout the night, Tony chattering away in his mind and keeping him company during those last hours of his task.

By now the morning light had made its way into the room, and Loki's bones were aching with the hours spent in that chair, bent over his task. The necklace was finished, spread out over the black velvet cloth on the workbench and Loki did not have the will nor the strength to make it all the way back to his pallet, simply sinking into the chair by the dining table after a few less than graceful steps. Crossing his arms on the rough wooden surface, he put his head down. Just a few minutes, and he would get up again and make his way to the pallet, finally stretching out his tired muscles to rest. He fell asleep like that, the light brightening and dimming again as the hours passed by on his still form, until nightfall.


	11. The Ending

Loki would have thought himself still dreaming as something nudged his mind slowly out of its slumber, if not for the overwhelming presence of **_Her_**. No dream, no memory could quite capture that feeling. He rose quickly from his place at the table then, ignoring the protesting aches of his stiff muscles.

The necklace lay spread out on the table on its bed of black velvet, the colorful memories reflecting the warm candle light in a myriad of colors. It was a beautiful piece of work, Loki would say so himself and not even feel prideful, it was a simple fact. The beaded strings interlaced in a grid pattern, starting with the darker colors at the top and changing to ever lighter ones towards the bottom. A few larger tear drop shaped pearls were placed to swing freely within their frames along the middle, circling the place the neck would be when it was worn. It was more of a collar than a necklace, really. Designed to enclose the neck and fan out below it, its tips reaching for the collarbone of the wearer. It was quite surely the most beautiful creation Loki's fingers had ever made and a piece fit for royalty.  
But beauty alone would not help him here.

Loki inclined his head towards the figure dressed in shadows, unable to give a verbal greeting. The pale lips under the dark hood gave the hint of a smile, and for a moment the flesh disappeared to show pearl white teeth set in even paler bone. He swallowed, for the first time in centuries actually feeling the need to shake with nerves but pushing it to the back of his mind with practiced ease. Too much depended on this. He could be weak later.  
Finally raising his eyes to meet **_Her_** gaze, he indicated the necklace resting on the workbench with his hand, once more bowing his head in respect. The humble gesture might look out of place on Loki, but for once it was neither mocking nor merely played at.

His gaze followed **_Her_ ** pale hand from below his lashes, as pale fingers stroked over the dark velvet bed beneath the necklace, flickering between skin and bone in the candle light as they helped inspect every little bead by touch.

 _-Oh please! Norns, let it be good enough!_ He silently prayed.

Loki waited for Tony's joking voice in his head, for it to mock his choice of words, anything, but the quiet was absolute. The clicking sound of beads moving against beads as the necklace was lifted from its bed pulled him out of his worried mind and brought his attention back to his guest.

 _ **She**_ was standing next to the bench, **_Her_** gaze turned once more towards Loki, the necklace now resting on bony fingers, which held Loki's offering out towards him. Loki looked upon the offered necklace with confusion, before finally holding out his own hands to receive it.

Was _**She**_ rejecting it? Horror slowly crawled up his throat, his eyes wide as he hesitantly raised the jewelry from **_Her_** fingers. He questioned with a single raised eyebrow, not wanting to jump to the most obvious conclusion.  
 _ **Her**_ dark eyes rested on him for a moment, holding his gaze as **_Her_** hands removed the hood of her shadow robe from **_Her_** head, before **_She_** turned and presented a pale neck to him, the fingers of one skeletal hand holding the mass of white hair out of the way.

_Oh!_

Hesitantly, Loki stepped towards _**Her**_ , close enough so his raised hands could lift the piece of jewelry and place it around the pale neck in front of him. So close to **_Her_** , he felt himself engulfed by the scent of wet stone and decaying leaves, the weight of millennia upon millennia heavy in the air. He tried to keep his breathing calm and regular, to not betray his unease maybe offend in the process, no matter how difficult.

It was his own strength of will and the well learned control over his body that every mage needed to perfect from a young age onwards if he wished to get anywhere within the arts, that allowed Loki to place the necklace around _**Death**_ 's throat without the slightest tremble in his hands. The skin underneath his fingers vanished for a moment as he closed the first of three clasps, leaving him to look at the vertebrae of **_Her_** neck, before smooth white covered them once more. Loki swallowed.

The moment the third clasp clicked into place Loki lowered his hands and took a respectful step back, taking care not to do so too quickly but also glad to escape the forced closeness.

Slowly, **_Lady Death_** turned back towards him, one hand raised to the necklace now enclosing the pale column of **_Her_** neck, a myriad of colors dancing over deathly pale skin in the candle light. The overall effect made **_Her_** look even more stunning and terrifying, which Loki had not believed possible. Lowering **_Her_** hand and stepping forwards, one pale finger turned to bone once more before stroking over the threads that bound Loki's lips together, disintegrating them with a mere touch, leaving behind only flesh, healed, if not unmarked. Giving Loki one measured nod, **_Her_** cloak began to unfurl into the shadows from the seams inwards as **_She_** turned away and within moments no sign was left behind of the wearer.

Loki just stood there, one hand raised to his now freed lips in the middle of the empty room, the warmth of the flickering candle light slowly creeping back into his skin.  
He blinked, his gaze turning towards the workbench and the now barren velvet cloth on it. The necklace was gone. He blinked again, realization slowly dawning on him. _The necklace was gone!_

With a burst of movement the spell holding Loki in place finally broke as he ran towards Tony's room and the bed that held his lover's body, resting there in his stasis.  
Except the stasis was gone.

Slowly Loki sank to his knees next to the bed, the tremor in his hand clearly visible this time as he stretched it out towards the shape of his sleeping lover, not quite daring to touch. On the bed, Tony gave a little huff in his sleep, his brow furrowed as he turned towards Loki, eyes staying closed.

“Tony?” Loki's hand finally sank down to take hold of one shoulder, feeling Tony's warm and living body through the layer of fabric covering his skin. He gave it a little shake.

 _“_ Tony!”

“-hrmpf!” was the grumbled reply, as warm brown eyes slowly opened to look back at Loki.  
“Hmm? -Oomph!”

Tony found himself with an arm full of shaking Norse god before he even managed the first coherent thought, never mind word. Loki was sobbing against his chest, judging by the wetness soaking through Tony's shirt and the hiccup-y breathing. His arms were wound tightly around Tony's ribs and neck, his hands bunching up the fabric of Tony's shirt where they were clenched tightly at his back and between his shoulders.

Tony's mental faculties never were the best right after waking up and before coffee, so all he could think to do was soothingly stroke over Loki's back, murmuring calming little nothings into his lover's hair while holding him close, as he waited for him to calm down and make some sense of what was happening here, since Tony definitely couldn't.

Looking around in the dark room only illuminated by what little light came through the open doorway and a magic little sphere on the table next to the bed, Tony's confusion kept on growing.

“Did we redecorate?” he finally couldn't help but blurt out.

“No, there is no way even you could convince me to put rustic wood paneling up in the tower. Are we on holiday and I knocked myself out or something?”

Against his chest, he could feel Loki's laughter interrupting the ugly sobbing and wet little hiccups and it made Tony feel a little better despite his lasting confusion. He'd only seen Loki cry once in all the time they had been together, and that had been a very drunken night with lots of reminiscing and old issues coming up. Even then it had been nothing close to this.

“Hey, hey. It's ok, I'm right here. Not going anywhere.” Tony kept murmuring, which seemingly only served to make Loki cling even tighter to him.

It took a few more minutes of this before Loki's well of tears finally started drying up and his breathing settled into something more even.

“You wanna tell me what brought this on then? Cause I have to say my memory seems a little patchy there,” Tony admitted.

There was not much he could do to reassure Loki in whatever way he needed to be reassured if he didn't know what way exactly that was, after all. Yes, it was obvious that something had happened to Tony that had hit Loki really hard but Tony didn't exactly know whether to promise never to go swimming or mountain climbing again as a result of it. Whatever it was, Tony would gladly do it if it would make Loki stop looking like that at him! As if Tony could disintegrate at any moment without warning in front of him if he so much as blinked.  
Well, at least Loki was finally looking at him. That had to count as progress, right?

“Lokes?”

Loki just shook his head at him, smiling despite the tear tracks on his face. Tony did a double take, frowning at the little markings dotted around Loki's lips. They looked like scars, but pale and only lightly shiny, like old scars would. Had they always been there? Tony could have sworn he remembered every little facet of Loki's body, his face especially, but he could not recall ever seeing those.

There was a twist of hand in the corner of Tony's eye that he had come to associate with Loki's magic little 'there but not there and I won't even think about how impossible that is' pockets, and Tony found himself distracted from his train of thought by a golden apple, all shiny and definitely not in Asgard, which had one of his eyebrows inching up towards his hairline.

“Eat, then we will speak,” Loki finally conceded, as Tony didn't make a move to take the offered fruit.

Well, Tony hoped speaking would entail the story of how Loki managed to have that piece of shiny fruit up his sleeve. But he took the proffered offering and bit into it without hesitation, watching Loki relax more with every bite he took, until the whole thing was gone.

His hand didn't stay empty for long though. Loki settled down next to Tony, downright cuddly and not even trying to distract from it as he usually did, his hand seeking out Tony's and holding it close, before he started talking.

As so many of their stories did, this one began with; “There was a fight...”

**Author's Note:**

> This work borrows from Marvel's MCU canon as well as Norse Mythology, so should be considered very much AU.  
> For a rough idea of timeline I would set it somewhere after Thor: The Dark World, with Loki having reappeared on Earth/Midgard, and having fallen more or less reluctantly into a relationship with one Tony Stark over the years that followed. Premises is that Loki has shown himself 'redeemed' enough to no longer warrant hunting down by Asgard or Earth forces, though he still is regarded with suspicion from most sides.


End file.
